


Bound by Blood

by The_Lady_Hestia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Dragon Age: Origins Spoilers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Post-Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:16:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_Hestia/pseuds/The_Lady_Hestia
Summary: We know the tale of the Warden, one of the last two Grey Wardens and the hero who saved the world from the Fifth Blight. But what if the Warden hadn't been alone? Solona Amell flees the Circle Tower with her best friend, Victoria Trevelyan. They rescue Duran Brosca and Aedan Cousland from certain death. Kallian Tabris joins them after saving her alienage from a monster, and Theron Mahariel is pulled from his clan to save his life and the world. Follow these Wardens as they are hunted by the very people they are fighting to save.Uncertain if there will be explicit content. I will update the tags if I add any explicit content.





	1. Chapter 1

"Mage Trevelyan," Irving sighed, "Why am I not surprised to see you back here? And for the same reason? Sneaking into the apprentice quarters when you have your own, rather comfortable, and much more private quarters on the second floor?"

Victoria Trevelyan did not squirm as she faced the First Enchanter. Rather, she met his gaze boldly, "First Enchanter, as I've told you before, I am needed in the apprentice quarters until such a time that Apprentice Amell passes her Harrowing and can join me in the mage quarters. Unless that time comes soon, I am afraid we the need for these little chats will continue."

He raised a grey eyebrow, "You do realize that Apprentice Amell is a very capable mage, who will undergo her Harrowing when her mentor sees fit."

"I do, First Enchanter, but I also know, as you do, that Apprentice Amell is still concerned about the attacks that happened after she assisted the Templars catching the maleficar."

"I assure you that Solona is perfectly safe, Tori. I have personally taken extra precautions since the latest attempt."

Tori shrugged, "Yes, I am aware that you've posted extra templars, but I am also aware that we haven't caught the blood mage who made the most recent attempt, nor have we caught the ringleader of their little gang. Until then, you will have to accept the fact that I am going to do whatever I have to in order to make sure my friend is safe."

Irving sighed, his age showing as he rubbed his temples, "Do you have so little faith in me, Victoria?"

"No, but I have no faith in anyone else. Well, except maybe Greagoir, but he'd just as soon see us all made Tranquil or kill each other off to make life easier for him."

"The Knight-Commander does not want to make all mages Tranquil, or have any of us

killed off. I can promise you that. However, it IS his job to ensure that we maintain peace within the Circle, and keep blood mages out."

"Well, then maybe he is the one who needs to do a better job of investigating and keeping Solona safe. And while he's at it, he still hasn't caught the Templars helping the blood mages! Sure, we can chase Anders a few times a year, but we can't find whatever maleficar beat Solona nearly to death!" Tori was on her feet and yelling, "She did exactly what she was supposed to do! She found out about blood magic. She reported it. She even brought definitive proof that there was a group, though not all the members were identified, and now SHE is the one who can't sleep without a personal guard because SHE is the one that they are trying to kill!"

A muscle twitched in Irving's cheek, but he managed to hide his amusement. For all that she looked like her mother with her golden curls, and slender form, Victoria Amell was her father's daughter, and she had never seemed so like him until that moment. Champion of the innocent. Protector.

Pushing aside the thoughts, Irving said, "What would you have me do, Victoria? I cannot torture people into confessing. I certainly cannot use blood magic to find blood mages. The only other option would be to send her to another Circle, but that would not help for long. Even so far away as we are, gossip spreads among the Circles, and it can't be helped. Even if there are no blood mages in her new home, there are still those who would make her miserable just for telling on her fellow mages. They would see it as a betrayal, even though they do not condone blood magic."

"Let her take her Harrowing, and give us a private room together."

"She is not even eighteen, and you are not a judge of whether or not she is ready," Irving warned, "Besides, I cannot afford to give her special treatment, or you. It will only make things worse."

Tori groaned, "You know she is ready! Everyone says she is talented, more talented than most full mages. You know it, Irving. Why won't you let her take it? She's seveteen and more talented than most of the Senior Enchanters."

"We have our rules, Victoria, and you are not her mentor. You cannot tell me, without any bias, that she is ready."

"Then post a templar next to her bed."

Irving shook his head, "No, and I must ask you to remain in your own quarters at night or risk being locked in every night until I say otherwise."

"Why not?"

"Victoria, I have been gracious, and answered all of your questions, but now is not the time for more questions. You WILL do as I ask. Am I understood?" Irving was standing now as well, his face stern.

She stared into his dark eyes, normally so warm and friendly, but now full of age and sadness. With a sigh, Tori relented, "Yes, First Enchanter."

"Now, I will tell Greagoir that you have agreed to cooperate. Thank you for understanding."

Tori almost retorted that she DIDN'T understand why it was a big deal that she was sneaking to sleep in the apprentice quarters, but she bit her tongue. Irving HAD been very patient and tolerant with her. She would trust him, at least for a night. If anything happened to Solona for that night, Tori was resolved to make him and Greagoir pay for it. With a small bow, Tori excused herself from the First Enchanter's office, returning to her duties helping in the library.

Tori enjoyed reading, but archiving the library could hardly count as reading, and was one of her least favorite chores. She liked adventure and action. Transcribing books fulfilled either of those needs. Unfortunately, until it was determined how Tori would best serve the Circle, she was being rotated through tasks to test her aptitude. Thus far they had determined that that cooking was not her strong suit, but she was faring moderately well at keeping books, helping in the store room, and making potions. She had asked her mentor, Wynne, when she would be teaching the apprentice mages in the hopes of being closer to Solona, but teaching and mentoring were reserved for more experienced mages.

"Well, hello," a familiar voice drawled as Tori transposed one of the dilapidated books.

She grinned, "Hello, Anders. I thought you were still in solitary."

"Me? In solitary? Perish the thought!" he grinned, honey colored hair falling into his eyes,

"Nice to see you passed your Harrowing a few weeks ago. Not that I was worried. Those demons don't stand a chance against you."

"You could have stuck around long enough to see it," she retorted, "How far did you make it this time?"

Anders smiled wistfully, "I saw my mother. I don't think she saw me, but I know my father did. The Templars were there immediately, and I couldn't get far enough away before they caught me. Stupid phylactery."

"You know, I was thinking about phylacteries, actually," Tori said casually, "It seems odd that the Chantry protests blood magic, but they use it to tie us to the Circle. Because Maker forbid we mages ever be trusted. Oh no. Blood magic is preferable to treating mages like human beings."

"It's good you passed your Harrowing because saying things like that will get you killed or made Tranquil."

She scoffed, "Because calling the Chantry out on its hypocrisy is a crime."

Anders opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by a gruff voice saying, "Mage Anders, I was under the impression that you were supposed to be helping clean the guest quarters."

Tori looked up to see Greagoir glaring at the two of them. Anders hurried off, muttering curses under his breath, but Greagoir did not move, "Irving tells me that it will not be necessary to lock you in your quarters."

"Yes, I'm sure you're very disappointed," she said sharply.

"Why would I be disappointed?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'd love to lock us all up. More than you already do. I'm sure you're terribly worried that me sneaking down to the apprentice quarters means I'm summoning demons or practicing blood magic," she rolled her eyes dramatically.

He sighed, "I would suspect you of blood magic almost as little as I would suspect Apprentice Amell or the First Enchanter himself, and I have no desire to see you locked up."

"Then to what do I owe this friendly little chat?"

"You know, one would think that you were never taught respect by your mentors or by your mother, Mage Trevelyan."

"Oh, and you intend to teach me now?" she retorted, ignoring the nagging voice telling her she was going too far.

Greagoir rubbed his forehead with his gauntleted hand, "I had INTENDED to tell you of the measures we are taking to ensure Mage Amell's safety, but you obviously don't want to hear about it. You'd much rather attack me and throw around baseless accusations."

Tori stared at the floor, embarrassed. Greagoir had always been kind to her, especially considering the fact that she was as brash and outspoken as could be. He did not deserve her wrath. She breathed deeply, reminding herself that Irving and Greagoir had always taken care of Solona, and that was unlikely to change, especially since she was helping them bring down blood mages.

"I apologize, Knight-Commander," she said meekly, "I just worry for my friend."

"I know," he said kindly, "But I want to assure you that we are just as determined as you are to keep her safe. She's a talented mage, and a brave young woman. Not everyone would have the courage to hand over information on their fellow mages. You are not the only person in the world who cares about her, Victoria."

Tori looked up into Greagoir's familiar, warm eyes, "I know."

"Now, perhaps you'd like to join me in my office to discuss how we intend to keep Mage Amell safe. If you can keep a civil tongue in your head, Irving and I also have a few ideas on how you can assist as well, since we obviously can't stop you from trying on your own."

She grinned, accepting the arm he offered as they wound through the tower to the Knight-Commander's quarters.

Later that evening, as the mages congregated for dinner, Tori plopped down next to a petite dark-haired girl who was so absorbed in her book that she hadn't even remembered to grab a plate of food. Tori leaned over the book, pretending to read aloud, "How to become as awesome as Tori. Step one, remember to eat. Step two, nap regularly."

Solona looked up at her friend with an amused grin, "Oh, you're hilarious."

"And you're going to miss dinner if you don't pry yourself out of that book. What are you reading, anyway?"

"It's a book on animal anatomy."

"Well, now that sounds fascinating," Tori teased, "Are you in a competition to see what the most boring book in the library is?"

Solona raised an eyebrow, "I was thinking that if we're getting permission to have pets in the tower, someone should know how to treat them when they're sick or injured."

"You know the Grand Cleric is never going to allow us to have pets. Mages with trained animals?" Tori faked a shudder, "Oh, the horror."

"Cats are good pets, and maybe small dogs. No mabari or anything like that, but some nice, small animals. Besides, Irving said he didn't think it would be an issue as long as we didn't turn the Tower into a farm. And even Greagoir says it would be nice to have some dogs around."

"We have plenty of dogs around," Jowan grumbled as he set down his food next to Solona, "Blasted Templars even smell like dogs."

Solona glared at him, "They do not. And the Templars aren't that bad. You just don't like them because they get to come and go as they please."

Anders collapsed in the seat next to Tori, "I'm not fond of them either, and I come and go as I please. They can't wait for us to mess up so they can run us through or make us Tranquil."

"They might like you better if you hadn't drugged or tricked most of them during your escape attempts," Tori shot back before getting up to grab two plates of food.

He shrugged, taking a few bites of roast before saying "They're so particular. Drug or seduce them to escape and they take it personally."

"You could have the decency not to toy with their hearts," Solona rebuked quietly.

"If we were to all stop flirting and toying with the Templars, life in the Tower would be even more unbearable. Besides, I don't do anything they don't want. I can't help that they get attached."

Jowan stabbed a potato, "You'd think by now they'd learn not to believe you. How many have you done that to now?"

Anders feigned a thoughtful expression, "Hmm. A dozen? Does it count if I never slept with them?"

"Yes," Tori said as she sat back down, placing a plate in front of herself, and one in front of Solona.

"Oh," he thought another few moments as they ate, "I don't think I can count that high."

"That isn't saying much," Tori took a sip of wine, "Since you can only count to fifteen."

Jowan choked back a laugh, and Anders wiggled his eyebrows, "Jealous, Tori?"

"We've been through this, Anders. I'm not interested in making it on the growing list of people you've slept with, and you have the wrong parts."

"You just say that because all the men you've had can't make you happy. A night with me and you'll see things in a different light."

"You say all the men I've had like I've had any. Besides, if I tried, I'd have to tell everyone how disappointing it was, and you'd lose your reputation as a good lover."

"That's not what Solona says."

By this time, Solona's ears were bright red, "Anders, it was one kiss when I was twelve, and you only did it so I wouldn't be the only one in my class who hadn't been kissed."

"It was still the best kiss of your life."

"Only by virtue of it being the only kiss of my life," she mumbled as her face reddened.

"Oh, our innocent little Solona," Anders laughed, "You know I'd be happy to kiss you again. Maybe show you a few things more interesting than kissing."

A loud crash saved Solona from answering, and they all looked to see that one of the Templars, a young man by the name of Cullen, had crashed into a table nearby, knocking himself over. He quickly glanced at Solona, then glanced away, his own face as red as hers. Anders smirked, "Or maybe we could find someone else to give you the pleasure."

The comment caused Cullen to crash into the same table again. Tori shot a look at Anders before offering Cullen a hand, "Are you alright? That table seems determined to trip you up."

"I, uh, I'm fine. Thank you, Mage Trevelyan."

"You know. That's the worst thing about breaking in new Templars. They can't remember your name. Call me Tori."

He nodded awkwardly, his eyes darting to Solona, who was turning even more red under his gaze, "Sorry. I-I should go."

They watched Cullen hurry off through the doors at the end of the hall, amusement on the faces of Tori, Jowan, and Anders, who declared, "You didn't have to torture the poor creature."

"We need to get our fun somewhere," she settled in next to Solona, "Speaking of. Did you all hear about Jayne? Caught with Knight-Captain Hadley?"

"What are they going to do to her?" Jowan asked in near panic, "They won't make her Tranquil?"

Tori shook her head, "They're sending her to a different tower, and he's getting a suspension of pay."

"Why aren't they making her Tranquil?" Anders asked.

"I don’t know for sure, but I heard she’s pregnant. They won’t make her Tranquil until after the baby. Can’t risk it.”

“I bet they wouldn’t care about the baby if it was a mage too. One less to worry about.”

Solona jabbed Anders in the ribs, but no one disagreed with him. A heavy silence settled over the group as they finished their meal. Solona turned the page of her book every few minutes, occasionally scribbling notes into a journal. The only other sounds were the sounds of utensils scraping against bowls. It wasn't long before they all finished, retreating to their various rooms for the evening. Tori took a last look at Solona before the dark-haired girl disappeared down the stairs.


	2. Trial by Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona Amell travels into the Fade to face a demon. Will she pass her Harrowing or be struck down?

"Solona? Sol? Sol, are you up?"

She raised her head, "What? Who's there?"

"Sol, it's Cullen. Y-you fell asleep in the library again."

Solona looked around. The Fade had been so real, so vivid. It took a moment for her to adjust to reality. She looked at Cullen. Why did he look so frightened?

"You, um, had a nightmare again," he answered the unspoken question, "N-no screaming, but, uh, you were thrashing, and whimpering."

"I guess I'm glad you found me instead of one of the others," she said kindly. Solona wanted to be bitter, to be angry about the constant nightmares, the memories of what had been done to her, but not at Cullen. Ever since he had transferred to the Circle six months before, Cullen had been a good friend to Solona. She would not even admit it to Tori, but she had a crush on the handsome, young Templar - a sentiment she sometimes thought he might share.

"T-they wouldn't do anything. Greagoir has extra security in place for you, uh, just in case."

That startled Solona, "Like what?"

"Oh, uh, well, he always has a Templar he trusts near wherever you are. A-and I know he and Irving were talking about m-magical traps and w-wards, and... Maker, Sol, don't look at me like that. The Knight-Commander would have my head if he knew I told you," Cullen pleaded, his hazel eyes full of warmth and sincerity, "We don't want anything to happen to you."

"I-I know. It's just...I wish I didn't have to live like this. Every time I go to sleep, I have nightmares. I have to take potions just to fall asleep in the apprentice quarters, and I hate that because it means letting my guard down."

Cullen pulled her to his armored chest, allowing her a few moments to be vulnerable.

She focused on steadying her breathing, thinking of the smell of books, leather, and raspberries. When she had calmed down, Solona pulled back, "Thank you, Cullen."

"You're welcome. F-for what it's worth, what you're doing, it's, um, really brave. I think it's, uh, really good."

Solona offered him a small smile as she got to her feet, "Do you think they would let me transfer to a different Circle?"

"W-what? You want to leave?" he cried, "But, no! You-you can't!"

"I don't want to," she assured him as they started to tidy up the library, "But I've been thinking it might be for the best. It will keep me safe, and maybe let the blood mages think things are back to normal. I'm sure they're too afraid to strike right now."

"Where would you go?"

She shrugged her small shoulders, "Starkhaven? Ostwick? The White Spire? Maybe Montismmard? I hear Montismmard is very close to the Orlesian court, and they offer a lot of liberty to their mages. I could attend soirees."

"You hate parties," Cullen reminded her.

"Okay, yes, but that's beside the point!" they worked in silence for a few minutes, "My point is, I've been thinking that after my Harrowing, maybe it's time I go to another Circle. It'll be safer for me, and Greagoir won't be working the poor Templars to the bone on my account."

Cullen seemed to be struggling to find something to say. Finally, he landed on, "But what about Tori?"

Solona sighed as she handed Cullen another stack of books to replace on the shelves,

"She could come with me. I know she'd be glad if we both got stationed in Ostwick."

"Why Ostwick?"

"Seriously? I thought everyone knew."

"What are you talking about?"

"No, no," she held up a hand and closed her eyes for a moment, "I'm going to savor this. For once, I was not the last to find something out. Okay. Do you remember Templar Lysette?"

Cullen searched his memory for a moment before landing on a young, fairly pretty female templar with a heavy Orlesian accent, "The Orlesian?"

"Most people say 'the pretty one,' but, yes, Orlesian. She and Tori were…involved."

"You're joking."

"Absolutely not. Ask anyone."

He shook his head.

"Didn't you wonder why she was sent away a few weeks ago? She was one of the best Templars we've ever had. Even Greagoir said so."

"So, what happened?"

Solona shrugged, "What always happens? Greagoir and Irving didn't mind at first. Wynne told me once that it is quite common. They decided ages ago that banning it would only encourage it. The romances die a quick, and natural death, and in the meantime, the couples are kept apart as much as possible. But Tori and Lysette were too close, and they were given a choice. One of them could transfer, or Tori would be made tranquil. They went to Lysette first. She agreed to transfer. They didn't even get a chance to say goodbye."

Cullen was stunned, though whether he was more stunned by the leniency or by the coldness of it, he couldn't quite say. Without waiting for him to respond, Solona finished clearing up her work. Extinguishing some of the lights, she walked to the exit, "Cullen?"

"Oh, uh, yes?"

"Are you coming?"

"Oh, yes," he hurried toward her, offering his arm to escort her to the apprentice quarters. When they finally arrived, he bowed slightly, "Good night, Sol."

"Good night, Cullen."

"Sol?"

She turned to look at him.

"I'd, uh, I'd miss you if you... if you left."

Solona attempted to squeeze his hand through his gauntlet, "I'd miss you too."

As she reached for the door, Templar Carroll came hurrying through the halls, stopping short when he saw them, "Someone up past curfew in the library again?"

"Oh, yes," Solona joked, "I keep telling Cullen that he will get in trouble for spending so much time in there, but he never listens. Such a rebel."

"Ha ha. Anyway, it's good you're both in the same place. You're needed."

"It's the middle of the night!" Cullen protested.

"Well, yes. That's generally when they do Harrowings."

It took a moment for his words to sink in, but as soon as they did, fear struck Solona like a physical blow. Now? She had only just turned seventeen! Most mages weren't Harrowed until they were at least eighteen. She hadn't even mastered her combat spells! Did they want her to fail? Was this some sort of joke?

"Sol? Sol?" Cullen called.

"Huh?" she looked at him, grey eyes large and unfocused.

"Go on."

"You too, Cullen," Carroll piped up, "Greagoir asked that you be there."

All of the color drained from Cullen's face, but he offered his arm again. Solona accepted it, and followed him through the dark, empty halls of the tower. Somehow, it all seemed so much more daunting - so much larger that night. This was not the first time she had wandered the Tower, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. Still. It all felt so foreign and cold now. 

When they reached the doors, Cullen took her hand in his, the cold steel of his gauntlet digging into her palm, "You'll do fine. I promise."

"Promise me you won't let me become an abomination," she demanded.

"W-what?"

"Cullen, I would rather die than spend a minute as a monster. You have to promise me that you will strike me down yourself if it comes to that."

Tears filled his amber eyes, but he nodded.

"Say it, Cullen."

"I promise, Sol. But you won't become an abomination.”

This time she offered a genuine smile, "Thank you. I'm glad we're friends, Cullen."

"Me too."

Carroll cleared his throat, "Ser Cullen, Greagoir wants us in the chamber. Solona, wait here. Someone will come for you when we're ready."

Solona nodded acknowledgement. She started to shake the moment Cullen stepped away, wishing she had someone to hold on to. It was easy to be brave when someone else was worrying, but now that she was alone, she had no one to pretend for, no one else to focus on. All she had was her own fear. Trying to calm her nerves, she recited all the spells for igniting, then for healing, then for lightning. She was just about the start the spells of protection when the door to the Harrowing chamber opened, and a templar, though not Cullen, escorted her in, stopping her in front of Greagoir and Irving.

"'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him,'" Greagoir stated solemnly, "Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin. Your magic is a gift, but it's also a curse, for demons of the dream realm--the Fade--are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world."

"This is why the Harrowing exists," Irving explained comfortingly, "The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed only with your will."

Greagoir directed Solona to a small, shimmering basin in the center of the cavernous room, "This is lyrium: the very essence of magic, and your gateway into the Fade."

"The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child," Irving grasped one of Solona's hands,

"Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you. Keep your wits about you, and remember the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real."

"She must go through this test alone, First Enchanter," Greagoir interrupted. With a kind smile to Solona, he added, "You are ready."

Solona approached the basin of lyrium tentatively. She looked to Irving. He nodded his encouragement. Greagoir was as stoic as ever. With a last glance around the room, she finally spotted the person she was looking for. Cullen. He looked as nervous as she felt. With a last reassuring smile for him, Solona dipped her hand into the lyrium, her body collapsing to the floor as her mind entered the Fade.

When Solona became aware of her surroundings, she appeared to be in some sort of ruins in varying shades of beige. It looked nothing like the Fade in her dreams, but she supposed that was because it was a test. Determined not to spend longer than possible there, she raced forward. She met with several wisps along the way, but she dealt with them quickly.

It felt like she had been walking for ages, when she heard a voice say, "Someone else thrown to the wolves. As fresh and unprepared as ever.”

She glanced around for the source, but only found a mouse, who apparently continued to say, "It isn't right they do this, the Templars. Not to you, me, anyone."

"You're a talking rat," she said, uncertain if she believed it.

It laughed, "You think you're really here? In that body? You look like that because you think you do! It's always the same. But it's not your fault. You're in the same boat I was, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

Solona gasped as the mouse transformed into a man, a man wearing what looked like an older style of apprentice robes, "Allow me to welcome you to the Fade. You can call me... well, Mouse."

"Not your real name, I take it?"

"No. I don't remember anything from... before. The templars kill you if you take too long, you see. They figure you failed, and they don't want something getting out. That's what they did to me. I think. I have no body to reclaim. And you don't have much time before you end up the same."

"How long do I have, exactly?" How was she even supposed to keep track of time in this Maker forsaken place? She was not even good at telling time in the  _ Tower _ without a clock!

Mouse rubbed his forehead, "I... I don't remember. I ran away and I hid. I don't know how long."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"There's something here, contained, just for an apprentice like you. You have to face the creature, a demon, and resist it, if you can. That's your way out, or your opponent's. If the templars wouldn't kill you. A test for you, a tease for the creatures of the Fade."

Solona looked around, thinking she might see the creature, "Why would they do that?"

"A question for those in the tower. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to ask. Maybe someday, so will I. There are others here, other spirits. They will tell you more, maybe help. If you can believe anything you see. I'll follow, if that's all right. My chance was long ago, but you... you may have a way out." 

She couldn't think of any reason that Mouse couldn't join her, though she was confused as to why he would want to. It wasn't like she would be able to help him. If his body was gone, he was stuck in the Fade for eternity.

They encountered several more wisps that Solona dispatched with ease. They hadn't traveled long before they encountered another spirit, a spirit of Valor. After talking with him for a moment, and sparring with him, Valor presented Solona with a staff in order to help her fight the demon. Solona had encountered many spirits in the Fade, spirits of Compassion, Wisdom, and Learning, among others, but Valor was one that she had never encountered before, and she hoped they would meet again after her Harrowing.

When she had fought off a band of spirit wolves with her new staff, Solona allowed Mouse to lead her to a small cove where a strange bear-like spirit lay napping. After much prodding, they determined that he was a demon by the name of Sloth, and he even agreed to teach Mouse how to be a bear. Of course, then he tried to return to his nap before doing so until Solona agreed to answer three riddles. She had never been particularly good at them, but Tori and Cullen had both enjoyed them, so she figured it was worth trying. Much to her surprise, she was able to answer all three riddles correctly. Cullen had actually asked her the riddle about the map once before, but the demon did not need to know that.

Solona practiced some spells while Sloth taught Mouse how to become a bear. She wondered how much time had passed since she had entered the Fade. Was she running out of time? Would she know when they struck her down as a lost cause?

Finally, Mouse was able to transform into a bear, and led Solona back to where he had told her the demon would be waiting. As Solona walked into the fire-encircled arena, a form rose out of the ground, and a creature appeared. A creature that appeared to be made of molten lava. Marvelous. And ice spells were her weakest.

With a deep breath, Solona approached the demon, and it snarled, "And so it comes to me at last. Soon I shall see the land of the living with your eyes, creature. You shall be mine, body and soul."

"It's two against one. You really want to fight us both?" Solona taunted.

"Amusing. Have you not told it of our... arrangement, Mouse?"

Solona turned to Mouse, but he said, "We don't have an arrangement! Not anymore!"

"Aww," the demon mocked, "And after all those wonderful meals we have shared? Now suddenly the mouse changed the rules?"

"I'm not a mouse now," he declared bravely, "And soon I won't have to hide! I don't need to bargain with you!"

"We shall see..."

The demon attacked, spitting fire at the both of them, and more wisps appeared out of nowhere. Solona rolled out of the way, firing of electric spells to take down the wisps while Mouse, who was currently a bear, distracted the demon. When the wisps were gone, Solona focused on drawing on her ice magic. All she needed was one spell. One good spell and it would be over. They could finish the demon off. Focusing all her energy on that once spell, Solona unleashed it, freezing the demon in place, and blasting it into oblivion.

"You did it," Mouse said in disbelief, "You actually did it! When you came, I hoped that you might be able to... but I never really thought any of you were worthy."

"This all seems too easy," she muttered, looking around for another demon.

"That's because you're a true mage, one of the few," Mouse praised, "The others, they never had a chance. The templars set them up to fail, like they tried with you. I regret my part in it, but you have shown me that there is hope. You can be so much more than you know."

Something about his words was rubbing Solona the wrong way, "So, what is it that you think you can get from me?"

"You defeated a demon, you completed your test. With time, you will be a master enchanter with no equal. And maybe there's hope in that for someone as small and as... forgotten as me. If you want to help. There may be a way for me to leave here, to get a foothold outside. You just need to want to let me in."

"Let you in?" she repeated. Irving's words about trusting nothing in the Fade returned to her. She had trusted this poor helpless creature, but was he truly so helpless?

"Back!" he corrected hastily, "Help me back. They killed me, right? Just like all who fail in here. They'll kill you too. Can't you feel the sword at your neck? They believe all magic evil, the Fade evil. Once you are here, you become what they fear."

"Were you ever an apprentice?" she demanded.

He looked taken aback, "What? Yes! Of course! I mean, I think I was. Isn't that enough? It should be enough! For you. I need you!"

Solona drew back, shaking her head. 

Mouse's voice changed, "Maybe they are right about you. Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust... pride."

As he spoke, Mouse transformed from his human shape into a giant, hulking, silvery purple demon with spikes all over his body and multiple eyes. Solona panicked, wondering how to defeat such a creature, when he said, "Keep your wits about you, mage. True tests never end."

Then, before Solona could get off a single spell, her world went dark again.


	3. The Deadly Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tori finds Solona after her Harrowing, and Jowan asks a favor that puts everyone in danger.

Tori paced outside the door to the apprentice quarters, chewing her fingernails to the stubs as she waited for Solona. She was furious that no one had told her about Solona's Harrowing, and had gone to both Greagoir and Irving to tell them so. They had both patiently reminded her that when a mage would be Harrowed was a secret for a reason. They would not break the rules just to ease her mind. Tori had glared at them both so furiously that she was surprised she didn't set both their heads on fire, but it wouldn't have done any good.

From all that Tori had been able to gather, Solona had done extremely well. She had beaten Tori's record for the quickest and cleanest Harrowing on record at the Circle, in spite of being only seventeen. Also, if rumor could be trusted, Solona had faced a pride demon in the Fade, the strongest type of demon there was. Though, to Tori, it seemed that a pride demon was the worst type of demon to set Solona against. She only drew attention to herself by answering questions or helping the senior mages, preferring to spend her time hiding behind Tori or Anders.

Tori thought back to the demon she had faced in her own Harrowing-- a desire demon who had taken the form of Lysette. Lysette with her dark hair, those warm brown eyes, and her beautiful, lilting accent. Tori knew somewhere in the back of her mind that it was the Fade, but even just seeing her lover in the Fade made her never want to leave again. They had talked and laughed, eating a picnic by a lake like they had always talked about, but during the picnic, Lysette had changed. Talking about how she wished they could be together again, and all it would take was just accepting her.

Then the whole world seemed to change, and Tori remembered she was in the Fade. She looked for all the things the demon could not copy--the way Lysette's eyes had flecks of gold in the center, the freckles sprinkled across her nose. Focusing on the flaws, she willed a sword into being, and struck the demon, screaming as though she was actually killing her love.

When she woke, Solona had been there, holding her while she cried, never asking what she had seen or done. She had, however, somehow managed to help get a letter from Tori to Lysette, and Lysette had been able to send one back. Ten full pages of reassurances that she was fine, and that Tori had done the right thing, and how wonderful it was to hear from her.

There had been no way to exchange letters since then. Solona's channels, though she would not say what they were, were barely reliable enough to use for two letters. In any case, that was enough. Tori was able to make sure Lysette was alright, and the nightmares finally stopped. It was also enough to give the two of them some closure on that chapter of their lives.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Jowan poked his head out of the door of the apprentice quarters, "She's waking up."

Tori glanced around to make sure there were no templars around before darting into the apprentice dormitory to stand by Solona's bed, "Are you alright? Say something, please..."

Solona managed to force her eyes open, "Tor? Jowan?"

"I'm glad you're alright," Jowan said quickly, "They carried you in this morning. I didn't even realize you'd been gone all night. I've heard about apprentices who never come back from Harrowings. Is it really that dangerous? What was it like?"

"It was... harrowing," Solona answered solemnly, her grey eyes sparkling with amusement.

Jowan, however, seemed to miss that he was being teased, "Is that why they don't tell us what it's about? I know I'm not supposed to know... but we're friends. Just a little hint, and I'll stop asking, I promise!"

Tori cut in, "Stop, Jowan. You'll go through it soon enough."

He huffed, "Some friend you are. Now both of you will be living in the nice mages' quarters upstairs. I'm stuck here, and I don't know when they'll call me for my Harrowing."

"Any day now, probably," Solona assured.

"Easy for you to say," he pouted, and Tori resisted the urge to slap him, "I've been here longer than both of you... Sometimes I think they just don't want to test me."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Tranquil never go through a Harrowing. You do the Harrowing, the Rite of Tranquility... or you die. That's what happens."

"They're not going to make you Tranquil, Jowan," Solona tried to be reassuring, but, as usual, Jowan wanted to be paranoid and miserable, so he would be.

Tori had never been overly fond of Jowan, but Solona was always one to help the hurting and helpless, and Jowan had been friendless before Solona. He was constantly manipulating Solona to mollify him, and make him feel better, but she wouldn't see it. All she saw was someone broken, and in need of her help. Nothing would change that. A part of Tori wondered if Solona might be better off if Jowan was Tranquil, but she shook the thought from her mind. Being Tranquil was a fate worse than death.

Jowan mumbled for another moment before saying in a self-deprecating tone, "I shouldn't waste your time with this. I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up."

"Here, Solona," Tori linked arms with her, "I'll walk you up there. We can look at your new quarters on the way."

Jowan glared at Tori, "You'd better not keep him waiting. We can speak later."

Tori escorted Solona through the halls. Well-wishers often stopped them to congratulate Solona, but an equal number of apprentices ignored her entirely. Solona took a moment to speak to some of the youngest apprentices, boys and girls who had only come into their magic recently, and they all congratulated her earnestly. Several apprentices asked what transpired in the Harrowing, but Tori and Solona both told them that it was a secret for a reason, and assured them they would all do fine when their time came.

Tori was secretly dying to ask Solona what had happened to her in the Fade. After all, she had shared her experience with Solona, but Solona made no indication to share. Tori resigned herself to the fact that Solona would share when she was ready, and not a moment sooner.

They stopped for just a moment at the quarters that were being prepared for Solona. Irving had been gracious enough to allow the girls to have rooms right next to each other with a shared common area. They also shared it with two other mages--Mira, a mage who had been Harrowed nearly a year earlier, and Milo, who had passed his Harrowing a few days after Tori six months prior. After bidding farewell to their new dorm mates, the girls made their way through the Tower to Irving's office.

"Go on. I'll see you at dinner," Tori hugged the younger girl.

"See you then."

Solona entered the First Enchanter's office to see Irving speaking with Greagoir and a man she did not recognize. Greagoir was arguing, "...many have already gone to Ostagar--Wynne, Uldred, and most of the other senior mages! We've committed enough of our own to this war effort--"

"Your own?" Irving interrupted, "Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"

Greagoir bristled, "How dare you suggest--" 

"Gentlemen, please," the third man interjected in a firm, but friendly tone, "Irving, someone is here to see you."

The other men turned, finally noticing Solona, who had been debating whether she should leave or not, "First Enchanter?"

Irving smiled warmly, "Ah, if it isn't our new sister in the Circle. Come, child."

The stranger stepped forward, "This is...?"

"Yes, this is she."

Greagoir started toward the door, "Well, Irving, you're obviously busy. We will discuss this later."

"Of course. Well, then... where was I? Oh, yes. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens."

"Pleased to meet you," Solona curtsied.

"You've heard about the war brewing to the south, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar."

Solona hadn't heard about any fighting, "Who are you fighting?"

"The darkspawn threat grows in the south," Duncan answered, "We need all the help we can get. I worry if we don't drive them back, we will have another Blight."

Irving chuckled, "Duncan, you worry the poor girl with talk of Blights and darkspawn. This is a happy day for her."

"We live in troubled times, my friend," the Warden said somberly.

"We should seize moments of levity, especially in troubled times," he turned back to Solona, "The Harrowing is behind you. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi."

"Thank you, First Enchanter."

"I'm sorry--what is this phylactery?" Duncan asked. Irving let Solona reply, "Blood is taken from each apprentice when we come to the tower, and it's preserved in special vials."

Duncan nodded, "So they can be hunted down if they turn apostate."

"We have few choices," Irving said defensively, "The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove that we are strong enough to handle our power responsibly."

Irving reached for a parcel on his desk, and handed them to Solona, "You have done this. I present you with your robes, and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them. I know you prefer not to use a staff, but I have had one crafted for you anyway. Stop by Owain in the stockroom and he will give it to you."

"Thank you," she took the parcel gladly, tracing her fingers over the plain, brown paper and twine. 

"It goes without saying that you will not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not undergone the rite. Now, then... take your time to rest, or study in the library. The day is yours."

"May I join Tori in her duties?"

"Not yet, my dear. Enjoy your leisure. Your own duties will begin soon enough."

Duncan bowed to both of them, "I will return to my quarters."

"Would you be so kind as to escort Duncan back to his quarters, my dear?"

Solona curtsied again, "It would be my pleasure."

"His are the guest quarters on the east side of this floor, closest to the library. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have matters to discuss with Greagoir."

As they walked, Solona searched for something to talk about. Surely, it would be rude to not say anything to such an important guest. Finally, she landed on, "Would you tell me more about the Grey Wardens and the darkspawn? We have books about the Wardens here, of course, but I've never had the chance to speak with an actual Warden."

"Certainly. What do you wish to know?"

"Oh, well. Have there been many darkspawn attacks?"

He sighed, "A horde has formed within the Korcari Wilds in the south. If they are not stopped, they will strike north into the valley. We Grey Wardens believe that an archdemon is leading the horde."

"Archdemon?"

"Darkspawn do attack the surface in ragtag bands, but archdemons are capable of rallying the darkspawn, turning them into an unstoppable force," he explained, "A horde of darkspawn... a veritable army. It is dire news indeed. I fear this is what we will have to face."

"I've heard they sometime attack in small groups, but an entire horde?"

"They usually move around in small groups, but there are always more of them, lurking underground, biding their time."

Solona imagined a mass of monstrous creatures invading Ferelden, "So, King Cailan is gathering an army to deal with the threat?"

"Yes. I hope it is enough. He plans to stop them at the ruins of Ostagar, and it sending out messages for troops to join him as soon as possible."

"Oh, well, here's your room. Do you need anything else, Ser Duncan?"

"No, but thank you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss... I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Amell. Solona Amell."

He bowed, "Perhaps we can speak later, Miss Amell?"

She was taken aback by his request, "Oh, um, of course."

"Until later then."

Solona exited the guest quarters, nearly knocking Cullen over as she hurried out of the room to find Tori. Tori had always been interested in the idea of joining the Grey Wardens, and now one had arrived! And looking for recruits for the battle. "Oh, Maker's breath, Cullen. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, um, I am glad to see you. I mean... to see that your Harrowing went smoothly."

She blushed, "Thank you, Cullen. I am glad you were there."

"I... uh, I'm just glad you're alright. You know. I would've felt terrible about it. I mean... if I had to strike you down."

"I would rather die than be an abomination."

"O-of course," he started to say something, but changed his mind, "I think your, uh, friend is looking for you."

Solona turned around, expecting to see Tori. Instead, Jowan was standing a ways off, fidgeting and glancing around nervously. She turned back to Cullen, "I'll, uh, see you later?"

He nodded. Solona approached Jowan, who now seemed to be inspecting Cullen with great suspicion, "Jowan?"

"I'm glad I caught up to you. Are you done talking with Irving?"

"I think so. Why? Were you following me?"

He glared at her, "Does it really matter? I need to talk to you. Do you remember what we discussed this morning?"

"Of course I do. Why are you whispering?"

He glanced over his shoulder again, watching Cullen "We should go somewhere else. I don't feel safe talking here."

"You're starting to worry me, Jowan. What is going on?" After all the times she had been attacked, Solona had no desire to be out of sight of one of the few people in the tower she trusted only to run off with the man who had barely had time for her, or any of his friends over the last few months. She shook the paranoia from her mind. Jowan would never lead her into a trap. He had been distant, but they were still friends.

He began wringing his hands, "I've been...troubled. I'll explain. Come with me, please."

With a last glance at Cullen, who looked as concerned as Solona felt she nodded to Jowan. Solona followed him through the tower. They eventually stopped in the Circle's chantry. Jowan glanced around before dragging Solona over to a small alcove where a Chantry initiate stood fidgeting with her robes.

"We should be safe here," Jowan whispered.

"All right," Solona managed, "What's going on, Jowan? What's with all the secrecy, and why is there an initiate here?"

"A few months ago, I told you all that I ... met a girl. This is Lily," he grabbed the initiate's hand, beaming.

"An initiate? That's forbidden!" Solona exclaimed.

Jowan fidgeted, "Lily's been given to the Chantry. She is not allowed to have... relations with men. If anyone finds out, we'll both be in trouble."

"So why am I here?"

"Remember I said that I didn't think they wanted to give me my Harrowing? I know why. They're...going to make me tranquil," his voice shook, "They'll take everything from me- my dreams, hopes, fears... my love for Lily. All gone..."

"That sounds terrible," she conceded, though she doubted the news. Irving and Greagoir were not dictators like the leaders of some Circles. They were kind and just. It had been over twenty years since anyone had been made Tranquil against their will in the Kinloch Hold Circle.

Jowan sobbed "They'll extinguish my humanity. I'll just be a husk, breathing and existing, but not truly living."

Solona tried to focus on his words, "How did you even find out about this?"

"I saw the document on Greagoir's table," Lily said as she consoled Jowan, "It authorized the Rite on Jowan, and Irving had signed it."

"But..but why would they do this to you?"

Jowan took a moment to compose himself, "There's... a rumor about me. People think I'm a blood mage. They think making me a Circle mage will endanger everyone."

"And are they right about that?" a chill crept over Solona.

"No!" Jowan said angrily, "Of course not! But you know they won't listen. It's my word against Greagoir's, and he claims he has proof."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I need to escape," he said quickly, "I need to destroy my phylactery. Without it, they can't track me down."

"And why are you telling me?" dread filled Solona.

"We need your help," Jowan said earnestly, "Lily and I can't do this on our own."

"Give us your word that you will help, and we will tell you what we intend," Lily added.

Solona's thoughts raced at what Jowan and Lily were asking her to do. Destroying a phylactery? It was illegal. Just helping them could get Solona sent to Aeonar, or executed. Or she could be made Tranquil herself. She could refuse, but then if they were successful, she would be just as guilty for not telling someone. Of course, if she told anyone, she would be betraying one of her only friends.

"I-I need to think it over," Solona managed.

Jowan started to protest, but Lily squeezed his hand, "I suppose that's fair, but please give us your answer soon. Time is running out."

Solona raced through the Tower, not sure where she was going, but determined to get as far away from Lily and Jowan as possible. How could they ask this of her? She had only passed her Harrowing that morning, and now they wanted her to throw it all away? On the other hand, Jowan was her friend, and he would do the same for her. Not that she would start running around with an initiate, or anyone else for that matter.

When Solona had finally stopped running, she found herself in one of the archiving rooms where books that were being restored were kept to preserve them while their knowledge was transposed. She slid down the wall, hot tears rolling down her face and onto her new, red and gold robes. She had been so happy to change into them and accept her new role in the Circle, but now they felt like a curse. If she was still an apprentice, Jowan would be forced to ask someone else. Maybe Anders, who would delight in destroying phylacteries. Or maybe Tori.

The thought of Tori made Solona cry even harder. What would Tori do? For all her criticism of the Chantry and frustration with the templars and being locked away, Tori was still obedient in her rebellion. She would not try to run away, but take a place with the Wardens, or search for opportunities to do some good outside the Circle without turning apostate. Of course, Solona couldn't tell Tori. If she did, Tori would be an accomplice too, and that was too much to risk. No, she would have to do this alone.

"Hello?" a soft voice cut through the dark room, "Sol-Solona?"

Her heart sank. Cullen.

"Sol, I know-I know you're in here, and I don't know why you're crying, but, um, I-I am right here if you, you know, want to talk about it."

Several minutes passed in silence. Solona heard the clanking of armor, but it didn't seem to be fading as though he was leaving her. She poked her head around one of the book cases. She could barely see him from her spot behind one of the bookcases, but it was enough to tell that he hadn't moved from the doorway. Apparently, the sounds had come from him changing position to block anyone from entering the room.

"Cullen?" she finally managed.

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

He paused, "Oh, uh, well, you shouldn't be scared. You did very well, and I don't think they'll give you too much trouble. Y-you're a strong mage, and a nice, um, good person, so you'll be fine. The others, they, uh, tell me that some mages have nightmares after the Harrowing, but they go away."

Solona almost laughed. He thought she was worried about the Harrowing still? The Harrowing seemed a lifetime ago already, and so miniscule in compared to her current problems, "N-no, it isn't about the Harrowing. Demons can't offer me anything I want."

"Um, that's-that's good," he managed awkwardly, "Then what are you scared of? Oh, if you don't mind my asking."

"I-I find myself stuck. Someone... a friend, has asked me to do something that I know is wrong. If I tell someone, nothing will change except that I have betrayed a friend and made everyone hate me even more."

"I don't hate you," there was a long pause before he recovered, "I mean, I don't. A-a lot of people don't hate you."

She smiled, "Thank you."

"S-so what happens if you help your friend?"

"The best case for me is being made tranquil. Or dying. Whatever you think is worse, go with the opposite. But it makes my friend happy. Of course, if anything goes wrong, we are all made tranquil or killed, and if I do nothing and someone finds out I knew all this time, then I can still be punished for not telling someone," the words were spilling out of her mouth now, "And I just can't win. I betray my friend and lose, or I help my friend, and they get to be happy, but I still lose. Not telling anyone makes me lose too. I just want to wring his neck for asking me to do this!"

Cullen turned to face her, but Solona stayed where she was, "And I could ask what you'd do, but I know you'd do the right thing, which means betraying my friend and possibly dying in one way or another! And you'd tell me to do the same thing because you're a good man and a good templar, and...and... and SHIT!"

He raced around the bookshelves, "Are- are you alright?"

Solona looked up at him, making herself even smaller against the shelves, "I'm fine."

"Oh... good."

"Am I a monster for considering betraying my friend like this?"

"N-no, of course not."

They stayed there in silence for a long time until Solona drew to her feet, "Thank you, Ser Cullen. May I take advantage of your kindness for a little longer?"

"Anything."

She squared her shoulders, "I need you to take me to Irving's office, and not let anyone see me going."

He glanced out one of the windows, "It's a-almost dark. Do you want to wait until the nightly vespers? Everyone will either be in the Chantry or heading to their quarters."

"That sounds fine. How long do you-?"

Her question was made unnecessary by the sound of the bell ringing to signal the start of vespers. Cullen glanced at the hall, "So, uh, should we go?"

"I guess," Solona followed Cullen through the Tower, watching at every turn for Jowan or Lily. Lily would certainly be in the service, and it seemed likely that Jowan would be there to be close to her, but Solona did want to risk that either of them were keeping an eye on her or were even just running late for the services. There was no reason to worry, however. When they passed the Chantry, she snuck a look, and saw Jowan sitting on the bench closest to where Lily stood, stealing glances as she assisted the Revered Mother.

Finally, they stopped in Irving's office, "Mage Amell, Templar Rutherford, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Solona stole a glance at Cullen. Rutherford? They had only known each other for a few months, but Solona had never thought to ask his last name. Now that she thought about it, she didn't know the last names of most of the templars. Was that rude?

"Uh, Mage Amell said she needed to speak with you about... uh, things," Cullen announced.

"Things, hmm?" Irving smiled, "Mage Amell, would you like Ser Cullen to sit with us while we discuss, uh, things?"

Solona glanced to Cullen. They were friends, of a sort, and Solona could not deny that having him around helped her feel safe, but Cullen was a templar. That meant he reported to Greagoir, and Solona wanted to speak with Irving before anyone went running off to Greagoir.

"Perhaps you would be willing to give us a moment, Ser Cullen?" Irving suggested, saving Solona the trouble of answering, "If you would wait outside the door to make sure we are not disturbed it would be appreciated."

Cullen gave a small bow before retreating to his post on the other side of the oak door.

Irving cleared a chair for Solona, settling into the chair behind his desk, "Now, tell me. What has you so wound up, my dear?"

"Jowan says you are going to make him tranquil," she blurted, unable to hold the words in any longer.

Irving sighed, "And how does he know this? I suppose the young initiate he dallies about with revealed it to him?"

The shock must have been apparent on Solona's face because he continued, "You think I didn't know? I did not become first enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut."

"So, it's true?" she asked shakily. Why wasn’t Irving denying the claim? He would never do that!

"I am afraid it is. Greagoir has proof - and eyewitness testimony- that Jowan has been practicing blood magic. I cannot say more. Were it left to me, things might be different," Irving said sadly, "But the Chantry... I'm sorry, child. The Rite of Tranquility will happen."

"Then you must know that Jowan intends to leave the Circle?"

"Oh?" he folded his arms, "Interesting. What more do you know?"

"I-I only know he plans to destroy his phylactery."

"And I suppose his lady friend is involved? Yes, she must be involved. She would know more about the repository than he would. Do you know anything else?"

She shook her head, tears burning her eyes, "No, I came directly to you. Lily has the plan. I told them I needed to consider it."

"I suspected Lily would tell him of the impending Rite if she found out, but I never expected they would have the gall to break into the repository."

"What will you do with Jowan?" she squeaked.

"Reporting him to Greagoir and the templars will not accomplish anything beyond what's already planned. If the Circle must punish one of its own, I will see the Chantry done the same courtesy. Lily will not walk free while my apprentice suffers," Irving spat.

"Lily is just trying to save the man she loves!"

"She is also breaking every vow she ever took."

"Will you report her to Greagoir?"

He shook his head, "If we mention her involvement, the Chantry will say she was framed. No, she must be caught in the act."

"But don't you always say the Chantry protects us?"

"My dear, if you want to survive, you must learn the rules, and realize that, sometimes, sacrifices are necessary. Jowan will become tranquil, but Lily must also face the consequences of her actions. How did you learn of their plan? Do they trust you?"

Solona nodded, ignoring the hot tears staining her cheeks, "Jowan told me their intentions, but I don't know the plan yet."

"Very well. Fetch Ser Cullen, and we will work out a plan of our own."

Solona made her way to the door, then hesitated, "First Enchanter?"

"Yes, my child?"

"If you know everything that goes on in the Tower, do you...?" she trailed off, unable to continue.

He offered a warm smile, "Yes, I know of your infatuation with our young templar. Were you not a mage or he not a templar, I would say your affections are well-placed, but I think you understand as well as I that it can never be."

"I know."

"You are a strong young woman for putting logic ahead of your emotions, and not pursuing more. It is what makes you such an excellent mage. Perhaps, in time, you will find someone who you can openly share your affections with. Now invite our young templar in. We will need his help."

When the plans had been made, and instructions had been given to aid Jowan and Lily with their attempts, night had already fallen and curfew was past. To prevent trouble for Solona, Irving ordered Cullen to return her to the mage quarters. They walked in silence through the stone halls, both pondering the day ahead. At last, they reach Solona's room.

Cullen stopped her at the door, "You-you're doing the right thing."

"I know," she answered, avoiding his gaze, "That doesn't make me feel like a better friend. You heard the First Enchanter. They're going to make him tranquil."

"He knows the risks."

"Yes, but he'll be tranquil either way. How can I call myself a friend if I'm sabotaging his only chance at happiness? He's tranquil if he tries or doesn't, but maybe, with my help, he could be free."

"Or an abomination," he reminded her.

She glared at him, "That doesn't help."

It was Cullen's turn to look away, "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how hard this is for you. I think...I think, you're being very brave."

She nodded, tears resuming their trail down her cheeks. Cullen patted her shoulder awkwardly. When she had composed herself, Solona offered a small smile, "Thank you, Ser Cullen. I should get to sleep. Big day tomorrow."

"Oh, uh, well, good night, Sol."

"Good night, Cullen."

Without a backwards glance, Solona retreated into the mage quarters, but, instead of crawling into her own bed, she crawled into Tori's. Tori was already in bed, though not yet asleep, "Solona?"

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Mmm-hmm. Everything alright?" Tori asked drowsily.

Solona didn't answer, "I love you, Tori. No matter what. You're my dearest, truest friend."

"I love you too. Did you have a bad dream?"

"Yes. A bad dream," she lied, curling into the covers for a night of restlessness.


	4. Duncan's Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona helps Jowan and Lily into the phylactery chamber. Will Tori find out what's going on before it's too late?

Andraste's tits! Tori reminded herself to save a glare for Leorah when she got of the Maker-forsaken store rooms. Spiders. It had to be spiders. Of course Leorah would make Tori deal with them instead of doing it herself. Leorah had only been recently been promoted to Senior Enchanter, but that made her above Tori, and allowed to delegate less than pleasant jobs. As soon as Tori had reported to the store room for the day, Leorah had taken her aside to demand she deal with the infestation quickly and quietly.

Screeches filled the air as Tori burned giant spider after giant spider. She was going to have to talk to Irving about a way to get rid of them for good. Maybe having some mabari in the Tower wouldn't be a bad idea. They could be imprinted on the templars to appease Greagoir, and be trained to keep away rats and giant spiders.

Tori made a last sweep of the cavern to make sure the spiders were cleared out, taking care to incinerate anything that looked like a web or eggs. When she emerged from the storeroom, she glared at Leorah, "Done."

The elven woman sagged with relief, offering Tori a new pair of boots in return for her assistance. Tori snatched up the boots, stalking off to the baths to rid dust and cobwebs from her hair and clothes. When she had bathed and changed, Tori wandered through the Circle, certainly in no rush to find Irving to hear her next assignment for the day. When she entered the library, she stopped, noticing a man in white and silver armor with dark hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. He was certainly no templar, but still he carried a sword and dagger.

She made her way over to him, "Hello. Who are you?"

He glanced over from the books he was examining, "I am Duncan, of the Grey Wardens. May I ask who you are?"

"Tori. Trevelyan."

"Nice to meet you, Mage Trevelyan."

She shook her head, blonde tendrils spilling from her braid, "Just Tori."

"I am surprised to see a Trevelyan here in Ferelden."

"Why?"

"Would you not go to the Circle Tower in Ostwick? Your family is a powerful noble family in the Free Marches. Surely, they would prefer you closer to home."

Tori shrugged, "I suppose, but they sent me here instead. We still write, and they send gifts."

"Well, how can I assist you, Tori?"

"I was just wondering who you were and why you were here. We don't get many visitors. Let alone armed visitors. Though if that's the new templar armor, I must say it's an improvement. Looks like you would get a lot more flexibility."

Duncan chuckled, "That it does. I am sorry to disappoint, but I am just a Grey Warden. I came here on the king's behalf."

That piqued her interest, "What does King Cailan want with the mages?"

"More of them. When the king asked for mages, he expected the Circle to send more than seven, talented though those seven may be."

"Well, how many does he want?"

"He would like to put a mage with each contingent of soldiers. He cannot do that with merely seven, so he sent me to ask for more."

"I'll go," she volunteered.

He raised an eyebrow, "I think that it up to the Knight-Commander, and the First Enchanter. They are the ones in charge of discussing who will go, but if they would allow it, we would be happy to have you along."

"You're a Warden. I thought you could just make them let me go. Don't you have treaties for that sort of thing?"

"You certainly know a lot about the Wardens."

"I know a lot about opportunities for mages outside the Circle," she corrected, "I want to do something useful with my magic. I’m not helping Thedas by sitting in this mage prison while darkspawn are out there killing people."

Duncan shook his head, "While I would be more than happy to test you to see whether you would be a good Warden, we prefer not to conscript whenever possible. It sours relations and makes our jobs harder. While Ferelden is required to give us aid, there are plenty of ways for our allies to make things difficult for us if they wish. Speak with Irving and Greagoir first. If they do not agree, then... well, let us see what they say first."

Tori nodded, "Thank you, Duncan."

She didn't wait for a response before speeding off to her room to think. Alright. If she was going to convince Irving to let her go, she couldn't just demand it. Irving liked logical, rational arguments. She needed to appeal to that side of him with a logical reason she should be allowed to go. Tori glanced at the pillow Solona had knocked off the bed during the night. Where was Solona? She could help Tori think of a good argument to present Irving.

Tori took off, searching the tower for any sign of Solona. She started in the libraries, but no one had seen Solona all day. Next was the observatory, Solona's second favorite place in the tower, but it was empty. There was a group of apprentices in the greenhouse, and no sign of Solona in the store rooms or in the kitchens. Tori was even desperate enough to ask Owain from the stock room if he had seen her, but he advised that he had not since the previous day, when Solona brought back a signed requisition form for a rod of fire.

Rod of fire? Why would Solona need a rod of fire? She had no trouble with fire-based spells, and wouldn't she just ask Tori for help if she needed it? The only other information that Owain was able to provide was that Irving had signed the requisition form. Setting a course for Irving's office, Tori ran straight into a wall of armor.

She looked up from her spot on the ground to glower at whoever she had run into,

"Cullen, what are you doing outside Irving's office? Shouldn't you be tranquilizing mages or flailing your sword around?"

"Oh, what? No," he stammered, offering a hand to pull her up, "I-I'm sorry. I was, um, I just needed to speak to Irving, uh, the First Enchanter, about... something."

Tori raised a blonde eyebrow, "And what do you want to talk to him about?"

"Oh, uh... well..."

He was saved from answering by Irving appearing in the hall, "Well, well, quite the commotion out here. Ser Cullen, by your presence, I take it you have something to report?"

The Templar nodded. 

Tori studied both men as Irving said, "Very well. Please ask Greagoir to bring a contingent of Templars to my office."

Cullen rushed off, armor clanking. When he was out of sight, Irving asked, "Now, how can I help you?"

"Where is Solona?" she demanded, suddenly becoming very worried for her friend. Something was very wrong if Irving was sending for contingents of Templars, and Solona was still missing.

"Don't worry. Your friend is fine," he assured.

His answer only set off alarm bells for Tori, "What did you do to her?!?!"

"Nothing," Irving answered calmly, "She is just helping me with a little project."

"What is this little project?" Tori demanded.

"Nothing to worry about, Tori. I assure you. All will be fine."

Tori gripped her staff, "I want to know what is going on! You assured me that you were not going to allow her to be put in any danger. I swear on the Maker, if anything happens to her, I will-!"

"VICTORIA TREVELYAN!" a voice bellowed from behind her. She whipped around to see Greagoir standing in the doorway, "Put that staff down, or I shall have my Templars restrain you. Am I understood?"

She let go, allowing the metal-coated wood to drop to the stone floor, "All I want is to know where Solona is, and why Irving is so determined to keep me from that information."

"As I said before, she is fine."

Greagoir turned to Irving, anger building in him as well, "Does this have anything to do with a message I just got from one of my Templars, Irving?"

"Yes," Irving answered, his voice still calm.

"Victoria, out." he said sternly.

"But I--."

"OUT!"

Tori stormed out of the room, snatching up her staff as she went. She even took extra care to slam the door behind her. Listening at the door was useless. There were a dozen enchantments on the door to prevent that. With Irving being the First Enchanter, he needed to be able to have private conversations without nosey mages or Templars eavesdropping. Tori had almost given up when she remembered that there was another person in the Tower who apparently knew where Solona was and he was not with the Templars shut in Irving's room.

“We did it!” Jowan kissed Lily’s hand, and turned to Solona, “I can’t believe it. Thank you…We could never have-.”

His words were cut off by Greagoir and Irving entering the chamber with a group of Templars, “So what you said was true, Irving.”

Lily whimpered, “G-greagoir.”

“An initiate conspiring with a blood mage. I’m disappointed, Lily,” he said solemnly as he examined her, “She seems shocked, but fully aware of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then. You were right, Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished.”

Greagoir turned to Solona, tears in his eyes, “And this one. Newly a mage, and already flouting the rules of the Circle.”

“It’s not her fault,” Jowan cried, “This was my idea!”

“She is here under my orders, Greagoir. I take full responsibility of her actions,” Irving declared.

Jowan turned to Solona, rage contorting his features, "Wait... you... you led us into a trap?!"

"I had no choice!" she protested.

"Don't you dare speak to me!"

“Enough!” Greagoir threw up his hands, unable to look at Solona any longer, “As knight-commander of the Templars here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death. And this initiate has scorned the Chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar.”

Solona fell back against the wall as Lily whimpered, “The…the mages’ prison. No… please, no. Not there!”

“No! I won’t let you touch her!” as Jowan shouted he pulled out a knife and dug it into his skin. Blood spewed from the wound in his hand. With a wave, he knocked down the Templars and Irving, leaving only himself, Lily, and Solona still conscious. 

Solona stepped away from her friend, shaking with fear. Blood magic? Jowan? Was he a part of the group that had been trying to get revenge on her for speaking out against blood mages? But he was her friend! Solona knew Jowan wasn’t a particularly adept mage, but he had always passed his courses. Why would he turn to blood magic?

Lily stepped back in horror, “By the Maker…blood magic! H-how could you? You said you never…”

“I admit,” Jowan confessed, “I… I dabbled! I thought it would make me a better mage!”

“Blood magic is evil, Jowan,” Lily sobbed, “It corrupts people…changes them…”

“I’m going to give it up. All magic. I just want to be with you, Lily. Please, some with me…” Jowan begged.

“I trusted you. I was ready to sacrifice everything for you… I… I don’t know who you are, blood mage. Stay away from me…”

Devastated, Jowan ran from the room. Solona ran to the unconscious First Enchanter and Templars. She was a decent healer, but she had no idea what damage Jowan had done. Once she had been assured that they were all alive, Solona focused her attention on First Enchanter Irving.

It was several minutes before he stirred, “Are you alright? Where’s Greagoir?”

Nearby Greagoir started to wake as well, “I knew it… blood magic. But to overcome so many… I never thought him capable of such power…”

“He lied to me,” Solona whispered through tears.

“None of us expected this,” Irving assured her, “Are you alright, Greagoir?”

“As good as can be expected given the circumstances! If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened!” the Commander roared, “Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!”

“You can still find him,” Solona said as she helped one of the Templars up, “He can’t have gone far.”

“Believe me, we will use every resource,” he turned, “Where is the girl?”

“I… I am here, ser,” Lily answered meekly from the corner.

“You helped a blood mage! Look at all he’s hurt!”

Solona ran to Greagoir, “Lily didn’t know Jowan was a blood mage.”

Lily squared her shoulders, “Save your breath. I can speak for myself. Knight-Commander… I… I was wrong. I was accomplice to a… a blood mage. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. Even… even Aeonar.”

“Get her out of my sight,” Greagoir turned away as the Templars took Lily, “And you. You were in a repository full of magics that are locked away for a reason.”

Irving’s voice was gentle, “Did you take anything important from the repository, my dear?”

Solona shook her head, “No.”

“Well, your antics have made a mockery of this Circle! Ah… what are we to do with you?” Greagoir rubbed the back of his neck in a way that made Solona think of Cullen, her heart sinking even more.

Before Solona could defend herself, Irving spoke up, “As I said, she was working under my orders.”

“And this improves the situation? The phylactery chamber is forbidden to all save you and me!”

Irving crossed his arms, “I had my reasons.”

“You are not all-knowing, Irving! You don’t know how much influence this blood mage might have had. How are we to deal with this?”

Duncan, the Grey Warden Solona had been escorting around the previous day, entered the room, “Knight-Commander, if I may… I am not only looking for mages to join the king’s army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens. Irving spoke highly of Mage Amell, and I would like her to join the Warden ranks.”

“What?!” Greagoir turned on Irving, “You promised him a new Grey Warden?”

“She has heard the Circle well. She would make an excellent Grey Warden,” Irving insisted.

Solona didn’t hear anything else, so strong was the pounding in her head. Her? A Grey Warden? A mage living outside the Circle tower? Was this the plan all along? What about Tori? 

Irving’s hand on her shoulder tore Solona from her thoughts, “So, I am to become a Grey Warden?”

“Yes, my child. You leave with Duncan as soon as possible. Go and pack your things.”

Solona embraced the First Enchanter, “I’ll miss you, First Enchanter.”

“And I’ll miss you, my dear, but it’s for the best. Every mage will make a difference, and when you bring an end to this Blight, you can always return should the Order permit. You will always be welcome here.”

"Thank you," she turned to the Knight-Commander, "Good-by, Knight-Commander. I am sorry for the trouble I've caused for you. Truly."

He sighed, "Be gone, mage. I want you out of this tower within the hour."

Solona allowed herself to be led through the tower, and to her quarters. It took only minutes to pack, but she dragged it out, hoping she would be able to see Tori before she left. She had just begun to write out a letter saying farewell when the door burst open, and Tori began throwing her belongings into a pack.

"What are you doing?" Solona asked as Tori threw books into the bag.

"Packing."

"Where are you going?"

Tori hesitated, "Shit. I forgot to ask. Where are you going?"

"Ostagar."

She snapped her fingers, "That's the one. I'm going to Ostagar."

"Why are you going to Ostagar?"

"Because that's where you're going, and I told Irving that I'm going with you."

"What?!" Solona dropped her pack.

Tori bundled up her robes, "I hunted down Cullen and made him tell me what was going on. Stupid of you, by the way, not to tell me. I get it, but still. Anyway, I followed Irving to find out what was going to happen to you. He told me you were conscripted. I volunteered to go to Ostagar. Greagoir nearly lost it, but Duncan was there, and said that since I volunteered and the Circle refused to send more mages, I was welcome to come."

"So... so you'll be a Grey Warden too?"

"Well, no. Irving suggested that I go as official Circle ambassador or whatever instead of a Warden. It appeased Greagoir well enough that he didn't call the Revered Mother about the issue. They can't technically forbid me to go, and they can't stop Duncan from conscripting me, so they had to get creative."

"But... but... this is your life, Tor!"

Tori grinned, "And now I'm going to do something important with it. Look. I'm going, so help me pack. We leave in half an hour."

They packed quickly, the only sound that of boots scuffling on the stone floors or belongings being shoved into a pack. With the two of them working together, it only took a few minutes. Solona stole glances at her friend as they worked. Tori did not seem concerned or upset at being forced out of the Circle. Tori had always been one to look for adventure and dream of a life outside of a life she considered a prison, but Solona was surprised that her friend showed no hesitation about leaving their whole world behind.

"Are you ready?" Tori asked, tying off her golden hair into a braid.

"I think so."

Tori shouldered her pack, "Come on, Solona."

Solona grabbed her own pack, following Tori down the stairs and to the front doors where Duncan was waiting. With one last look around the Tower, Solona followed Duncan out the doors and to the ferry that would take them across Lake Calenhad. She watched as the opposing shore drew nearer, and the Tower's shore faded away. On the other side of the lake, they tied their packs to horses, then mounted the creatures to begin their journey, the tower quickly fading into the horizon as they headed toward their future.


	5. The Road To Orzammar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter detailing the mages' trip to Orzammar.

Duncan was good company on the road, always willing to listen to stories of the Tower and share his knowledge of the world outside. Mostly, Solona and Tori wanted to hear about darkspawn and they Grey Wardens - topics Duncan knew plenty about. He told them the Chantry tale about how Tevinter magisters had broken into the Golden City, bringing the Blight to the world and becoming the first archdemon. He admitted that even the Grey Wardens did not know if that was the truth, but it was as good an explanation as any. Tori was quick to point out that no one else had offered any other explanations, so another explanation could be just as likely. Duncan didn't argue, reminding them that the Grey Wardens were more concerned with stopping the Blight than determining what legends about it were true.

In addition to his knowledge of the Grey Wardens and the Blight, Duncan was particularly well-traveled, with many stories about different countries. He had traveled once to Antiva, where he had spent a year training Grey Wardens near Antiva City. He’d even passed through Rivain in his travels, and docked in Seheron for supplies. Usually, his travels kept him in Orlais, Ferelden, or the Free Marches, but he still had plenty of stories to share of the world outside of the Circle.

Duncan was equally as interested in learning about life in the Circle, and the abilities of Solona and Tori. Tori eagerly showed off her talents, taking every opportunity to light the campfires with her magic, and displaying her earth magic. Healing had never been one of her strengths, but it didn't matter because Solona excelled at it. Solona was more wary of displaying her storm magic, but she conceded when Duncan had found a safe place for her to show off her talents.

"Well, I can see I at least received two very capable mages," he commented when Solona had finished.

Tori beamed. Freedom was suiting her. The sun had given her skin a lovely tan, and she had already traded in her traditional robes for a set from Tevinter that showed off a lot more skin. The risqué attire startled Solona, but she couldn't deny that the new look was suiting Tori.

"So, where exactly are we heading?" Solona asked, "You said we were going to be recruiting, but where?"

"Our first stop is Orzammar. King Endrin Aeducan will give us armies for the Blight if we need them, but I am hoping to bring in more than just you to the Wardens, Solona. With the Blight coming, we will need all the Grey Wardens we can get, especially since the king seems determined not to wait for reinforcements."

"Why won't he wait?" Tori asked as they prepared to mount their horses.

Duncan sighed, "The Wardens have many secrets, Mage Trevelyan, but I will tell you that we can tell when it is a true Blight. I have tried to tell the king this without betraying my vows, but it is difficult. It has been 200 years since the last Blight, long enough for people to become complacent. Most will not believe that it is a Blight until they see the archdemon for themselves, and by then it may be too late."

"Why?"

"The darkspawn are mindless creatures, seeking to kill and destroy all in their path with no real destination save forward. An archdemon is intelligent, clever, and it can control the darkspawn to lead an army that could wipe out even our best armies if we are not prepared."

"What if we could find the archdemon and kill it before the Blight spreads?" Solona suggested, "The darkspawn would retreat, and the Blight would be over."

Duncan smiled, "It is a good idea, and one we have tried many times. Unfortunately, until it is ready to show itself, the archdemon will hide deep within the deep roads where no mortal can reach it. Now, before we get to Orzammar, there are some things you should know."

"Like what?" Tori asked, still considering the idea of hunting down the archdemon.

"Of all the races, dwarves revere the Grey Wardens the most as they are most affected by the Blight and the darkspawn. Even without a Blight, they wage a constant battle against the darkspawn, and their numbers are fewer every year. We Wardens do our best to keep a group  of Wardens there to help them, but the darkspawn are never ending."

"What does that have to do with the Wardens?"

"Because we dedicate our lives to fighting the darkspawn, they feel a sort of kinship with us that they do not have with other surfacers. Only their best, most revered warriors venture into the Deep Roads, so we are revered as they are. The dwarves are our strongest allies against the Blight, but they are also going to be the most alien to any non-dwarven Wardens. For example, they maintain a strict caste system, and it must be respected. They also have dwarves that have been branded casteless."

"How do you get branded casteless?" Solona wondered aloud.

Duncan did not seem to mind the question, "Most of the current casteless were born to casteless parents, but somewhere along their ancestry, someone was a criminal, or was injured to the point of being unable to work, or brought shame to their family and caste. They are branded to tell the rest of the dwarves that they are less worthy, and not to do business with them."

Both of the girls stared at him in horror, but Duncan continued, "It is not something I am fond of, but it is not our place to criticize. Grey Wardens remain apart from the politics of the world, focusing on the Blights, rather than the machinations of kings and queens. While we are there, you are to abide by their rules. Do you understand?"

They nodded. Duncan continued to give them a brief overview of the proper greetings in Orzammar, as well as offering information on the royal family of Orzammar. He told them that King Endrin had three children, two sons and a daughter, and they were descended from the paragon Aeducan. This sparked an inquiry about the paragons, and beliefs of the dwarves. It was foreign to the young mages that the dwarves did not believe in the Maker, or in any higher power. Even though they had not always agreed with the Chantry, the idea of not believing in anything was too much to consider.

It took five days on horseback before the trio reached the Frostback mountains. The air was thin in the mountains, but there was something invigorating about it all. Solona drank in every inch of the landscape, reveling in how the crisp air stung her cheeks. Tori was much less pleased with the cold, especially with her sparse new robes, but even she enjoyed the scenery.

Duncan was generous in allowing the mages to drink in the unfamiliar surroundings, but it was still too soon for them both when they arrived at the doors to Orzammar. Upon seeing Duncan, the dwarven guards bowed, opening the doors to allow the three of them to pass. Solona could not stop a gasp as the giant doors swung open to reveal a massive entry room made entirely of a golden colored stone that reflected the glow of the torchlight.

"Sol, look," Tori whispered, pointing past the large statues to the walls.

Solona turned her gaze to the walls, startled to see what resembled stained glass artistically patterned into the stone walls. As they passed the statues, Duncan told them that each one resembled a Paragon and different accomplishments of those Paragons. He told them that the only Paragon of the current generation had been a clever dwarven woman named Branka, but she had disappeared years before in the Deep Roads.

"Come now," he called to them, "The royal family is waiting for us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a shorter chapter, but it didn't quite fit with any of the other scenes. I decided to just post as a separate chapter with another scene. The next few chapters will tell about their time in Orzammar and who Duncan looks to recruit there. Please leave comments and kudos if you like it!


	6. Under His Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Below the Surface, in the depths of Orzammar, Duran Brosca, a casteless dwarf fights to provide for his family in a world that hates everything about him, from the dust on his boots to the brand on his face.

One day, Duran Brosca was going to live an honorable life. His name would be recorded in the shaperate, and people would remember him as the honorable man he had always strived to be. Unfortunately, today was still not that day. Today he was, once again, listening to Beraht berating his beloved sister, Rica, while Duran was forced to stand by to wait for his assignment.

He hated working for Beraht-a man who was everything Duran despised. Beraht ran the biggest crime ring in Orzammar, responsible for everything from petty theft to pimping casteless girls out to nobles, to gambling, and hired hits. He even dabbled in lyrium smuggling. He was completely unscrupulous, but he was also the only one who would hire casteless, and there weren't a lot of options in Dust Town. Besides, when Rica caught Beraht's eye, she couldn't refuse. He wouldn't allow it. All Duran could do was start working for Beraht to at least try to protect her.

"I can't keep gambling on you forever, precious," Beraht said in his oily voice, "You got a sweet look, something to light a man on fire. But you gotta make it count."

"Please, Beraht," Rica pleaded, "Can we not do this in front of my brother--?"

"Why not? He knows the slope of the land, don't you, boy?"

"Didn't I tell you not to talk that way to my sister?" Duran growled.

Beraht shrugged, "You've told me a lot of things, not one of which meant more than a fart in the middens. Before me, your sister was just another duster. Now check her out!" He circled Rica, examining her like she was a piece of flesh, "Braids down to here, gold-capped teeth. She can recite elf-poetry, and play the string harp. Every man's dream! All she's gotta do is find a lord, squeeze out some kid who looks like him, and we're all living the easy life in the Diamond Quarter."

"Please don't get involved," Rica begged her brother, "You know that never goes well."

Duran gritted his teeth, "I don't like to see him treating you that way."

Beraht guffawed, "I'll treat her however I like, as long as you both eat off my plate. You keep your head down and say 'Aye' to any job I decide is low enough for scum like you. In return," he turned his attention to Rica, "I put out coin so you can doll yourself up, and get a bellyful of some nobleman's brat. Then you both go free. And I get to join the family, and be called 'my lord' for the rest of the little prince's life."

"And her son'll call you uncle and come visit on name days?" Duran asked sarcastically.

"That's what everyone likes-- a casteless with a big mouth. But I didn't come for the joy of your company. I've been looking at my investments, and this one hasn't borne much gold," he pointed to Rica, "I'm giving you another week, precious. If you haven't found a patron, you're back to sweeping streets."

Rica started wringing her hands, a habit Beraht hated, "But... I have. I've met someone... That is, I didn't want to promise, but he seemed interested."

"See? She's found someone. I told you we'd deliver," Duran said quickly.

"It's nothing definite," she repeated, "But he... he said he wanted to see me again."

Well, that was at least good news. Beraht, on the other hand, did not seem as convinced, "Excuse me if I don't start knitting booties. Until I do, you're the one who's going to keep paying her debts with your service to the carta."

"You have some more...errands for me to run?" Duran asked with contempt.

"A few. Do a good job, and you might work your way up to footpad one of these days. Your buddy Leske's waiting outside. He knows what I'll need from you today. Don't even think about bungling this job," the crime lord threatened, "Your whole family's on loose sand with me right now. And I know you don't have anywhere else to turn."

With that, Beraht turned, leaving them alone in their home. Rica grabbed Duran's hands, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I can't stand the way he treats you!" he growled.

"Just be careful about showing him," she said gently, "You've been lucky so far; he thinks it's funny when you and Leske get vulgar. Some of the nobles I've met, they'd as soon have your head for speaking your mind. That's why I didn't tell you before. Beraht's been warning me ever since two of his other girls found patrons at Lord Harrowmont's reception."

Her voice shook as she continued, "They've been getting gifts already. Lord Rousten gave Elyse a surface-silk gown, and she's not even pregnant. Beraht's getting impatient."

"I want you to stop working for them," he urged. It was an old argument, but he never stopped trying to convince her.

"You know the other options," she reminded him, "Cleaning middens... begging... going to the surface. No, unless you find some way to save us all from the darkspawn, and become a Paragon, we're pretty much on Beraht's leash for life."

"I don't know why I can't join the army and fight the darkspawn," it was a lie. He knew. They all knew.

Rica reminded him anyway, "It's sheer folly, one more way the nobles protect their status. They say casteless soldiers are more danger to each other than to the darkspawn... that it's an insult to the smith to let us touch a fine-made weapon. Truly, they just don't wish to insult the Warrior Caste by showing that, given the same opportunities, we could lead an army just as well. I know you could, Duran."

"But haven't the darkspawn almost overrun the current troops?" he had heard rumors, but Rica would be closer to more reliable information.

She nodded, "Every year, more of the beasts come up from the Deep Roads. I've heard they've even been harrying the surface."

"Is anyone doing anything about it?" he asked incredulously.

"Aye. They would even turn to humans for aid before us, it seems," she confessed, "There's been talk of an alliance against the darkspawn, even that the Grey Wardens have stepped up. But we don't have time for this now. Leske must be waiting, and Beraht won't like it if I'm late for my appointment."

Duran squeezed his sister's hands, not wanting to soil her dress with an embrace, "Beraht expects too much from you."

"You know how desperate the nobles are for more children. They can barely field enough soldiers to hold the walls against the darkspawn. If I could... give one of them a son, the whole house would celebrate. And we'd all be raised up to noble caste to join the family," she sighed, "It's what Beraht's betting on. That's why he paid for my clothes, my voice lessons. He wants to share the reward."

"Did you say that there was a noble who was interested?"

"Yes," she said wistfully, "That is, I hope. He certainly seems... charming. He treats me like a real lady, not just someone to tumble and forget."

Duran raised an eyebrow, "Who is he?"

Rica turned away, "I-I don't want to say... in case I'm wrong. It just seems too mad to think of one of the most important men in Orzammar with... someone like me. Anyway, time is rusting, and I need to get dressed. These fashions will be the death of me-- a hundred buttons on each sleeve! And Leske's probably already outside waiting for you."

"I'll see you in a bit."

He left her to fight with her clothes, knowing she would likely call after him in a few minutes to help her with the hundreds of buttons on her newest gown. Duran stopped in the main family room. It was mostly bare, decorated by a few stone chairs, some pots, and several bottles of ale at varying amounts of emptiness.

With a sigh, he approached his mother, who groaned and slurred, "Whozzat? Why are you bothering me? Rica?"

"No, it's the king of Orzammar," Duran said in his most pompous voice, "I heard you were single."

"Don’t you sass me, you ungrateful brat!" Kalah lectured, "I made you, and I can make another just like you."

He sighed, "Please, Mother. I hate it when you get like this."

"Please, Mother. I hate it when you get like this," she mocked, "What, am I embarrassing you? Don't want anyone to see that dear old mam's a lush, is that it?"

It was time for a different tactic, "You have to stop this, Mother. You're killing yourself."

She took another swig from her bottle, "You tell me, just what do I got that's worth living for?"

"What about me? What about Rica?" he demanded.

"I know you both hate me. I-I know what I done to you, but..." Kalah's voice shook for a moment before she regained herself, "It was for your own good. The world's a cruel place. You... you had to learn that. You think you'd be where you are now if I'd let you hide from a few slaps? Everything you are, I made you!"

The truth of her words hurt worse than any of the injuries he received on the job. He had learned to take hits at an early age, for himself and for Rica. When he was younger, and other boys picked fights, or went after Rica, he would fight back. He took as many punches as he gave, but it didn't faze him. He had been getting punched by his mother all his life. Why would a few hits from untrained smith caste boys mean anything to him?

It was also that skill that led Beraht to him. Well, his skill and Rica's pretty face. Duran could pay off the debts Rica accrued while getting schooled in how to catch a noble, in the hopes that, one day, they would leave Dust Town forever. The idea of being made a paragon had always appealed more than letting his sister whore herself out, but there were no smiths who would teach him, no warriors to train him, and no chance to prove himself in Provings or in the Deep Roads.

On his days off, Duran had taken to spending time in the Shaperate, reading and studying everything he could get his hands on. The Shaper of Memories, Shaper Czibor, had thrown Duran out more times than either of them cared to count when Duran was a teen until they came to an agreement. Duran would help do the hard labor, cleaning, and anything the old Shaper asked of him, in return for spending his off days studying. Over the years, he had also learned the process of storing memories into lyrium, though he was not permitted to do it himself. Still, Duran studied, hoping that, one day, he might be able to find something that would raise him to a Paragon so his family would be raised to noble caste, and his name would be written by the Shaper.

"Do you think that's something to be proud of?" he asked finally.

"I tried my best!" she shrieked, "They treat us like dust, tell us we're cursed. How else are we supposed to live? We got nothing! There's no way out. For any of us."

He bristled, "You're wrong. I'm going to make something of my life."

She laughed, "You can try, but you'll never get it off you. Dust town, it sticks to the skin. You don't bleed red enough for them, and nothing's gonna change that. All you can do is find some way to forget."

Duran turned away. No, Dust Town would not stick to his skin. One day, he would leave and never come back. With a last glance at the house, he pushed open the door. Leske was waiting. It was time to get to work.

Leske was waiting at the bottom of the steps, "About sodding time. I was starting to think I'd have to bust in and get an eyeful of that spicy sister of yours. Ga-row!"

"Haven't I told you never to talk about my sister that way?"

"But no hot-blooded dwarf can help himself. Those perfect lips, just made to be screaming my name...You must have had a few naughty thoughts yourself, huh? What do you say?"

Duran grabbed Leske by the throat, "That I might have to feed you your spleen."

"At least I'd have something to eat," he stepped out of Duran's grip, "But much as I'd love to keep chatting, we'd better get down to business."

"Right. What's the story?"

Leske talked as they made their way through Dust Town, "Boss says we're out for a search-and-discipline. One of his smugglers is holding out on him. Name's Oskias. Some surfacer. Beraht got word that he's been selling shipments topside that never make it to Beraht's ears down here. He wants us to find the rotter and see what goods he's holding back."

"Any idea where this Oskias is?" Duran asked as he gave a few coins to a cripple.

Leske shrugged, "All he told me is 'Find him.' Duster's got some family from the Merchant Caste. He's probably staying near their quarters."

"What sort of goods are we trying to find?"

"You know, gold, lyrium, spices... Anything that Beraht might cut someone's head off to get."

Duran glanced around, watching for anyone who might seem too interested in their conversation, "What do we do with him if he has been holding out on Beraht?"

"Well, if he is skimming, we kill him, of course. I mean, Beraht doesn't let anyone swindle him and live. Bringing his head on a plate is completely optional, though."

"Fine," Duran conceded, "But let's at least find out what he's done."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night, my friend."

It took nearly an hour of running around Orzammar before they tracked down Oskias at the tavern. The bartender gave them some trouble for being casteless, but he quickly changed his tune when he realized they were Beraht's men. Beraht had nearly as much power in Orzammar as King Endrin himself, and no one dared get in the way of his business, even most of the guards. When the bartender heard that Beraht had a problem with Oskias, he was only too willing to point the man out, only asking that they try not to do too much damage to the place.

Duran and Leske ambled over to where Oskias was sitting, then pulled out the other chairs at the table to seat themselves. Oskias glared at them, "Hey, I was saving that seat!"

"That's real thoughtful, Oskias. It's tiring work looking for you," Leske said as he towered over Oskias.

"H-how do you know my name?"

"Let's just say we've got a mutual friend," Duran said evenly.

That seemed to do the trick, "Oh, no. You're not from Beraht, are you? Because that would be... too much. I don't think I could handle--."

"Calm down. There's no reason we can't keep this civilized."

"You mean, you're not here to kill me?" Oskias asked hopefully.

Duran leaned forward with a cold smile, "Why? Is there a reason we should?"

"Look, I-I’ve always been loyal to Beraht. He's been good to my family. I-I know how much I owe him."

By the stone, this was going to be difficult, "I believe you. But I just need to make sure."

Leske knelt down, "Keep him still. I'm gonna search his bags."

"W-wait! I do have some lyrium. It's just ore. I-I made a side deal with one of the mining families. If it worked out, I was gonna bring Beraht his cut, I swear. I-I'd be crazy not to."

"Suicidal, one might say," Leske added.

Duran ignored Leske, "How much ore did you take?"

"Just a little. Maybe twenty-five sovereigns worth--."

"Twenty-five sovereigns?" Leske asked in disbelief.

Oskias shrugged, "Most of that's with my buyers on the surface. I just picked up a few nuggets down here. If I were to... maybe give you a piece, that's a lot of coin. Could you, uh, forget to mention this to Beraht?"

Duran knew Leske was watching him as he considered it. The money could help them get to the surface, start a new life. Could they? No, it was too risky. If he was going to get Rica out, he couldn't go around stealing from Beraht, "We don't steal from Beraht, and you shouldn't either."

"It's his. Take it. Will you let me go now?"

Duran stifled a groan, but conceded, "I'll tell Beraht you're dead. Just leave Orzammar, and don't come back."

Oskias stood, "Yes. Yes! I'll go back up to the surface right now. I'll move to Orlais, to Antiva! Thank you! You're as noble as you are strong! May the ancestors bless your steps!"

Oskias ran out of the tavern without a second glance, and Duran led Leske out a moment later.

As soon as they exited the tavern, Leske pulled him aside, "Was that smart? If Beraht finds out Oskias ran, he'll kill you. He'll kill me. He'll make you kill me, then yourself! Then he'll probably stew us and serve us to the poor."

"Too late for regrets. He's halfway to the surface by now if he has any brains."

Leske sighed, "We should bring Beraht the lyrium, as proof of what Oskias was doing."

Quickly, they made their way across the middens and to Beraht's shop. With a deep breath, Duran swung the metal door open to see Beraht and Jarvia. They were discussing the king, a popular topic as of late since King Endrin was ill and did not seem to be recovering.

Everyone was wondering which of his three children would be named the next ruler of Orzammar. Trian was the eldest and a brilliant military mind, but hard and not well-liked. Bhelen was the youngest, and the most cunning, but he was also the most radical and the least trusted. Lastly, there was Sereda Aeducan, the most beautiful dwarf in Orzammar according to popular opinion, friend to the casteless, less radical than Bhelen, though progressive, and beloved by all of the citizens. However, it seemed unlikely that she would be chosen above two brothers.

If Duran was honest, he didn't care much for the politics of Orzammar. Kings did not care about the casteless, so why should Duran care about them? Maybe if they started letting casteless earn a place in Orzammar, allowing them to be treated like other dwarves, instead of garbage because of something one of their ancestors had done. Maybe then Duran would care about who was king.

"We'll finish this later," Beraht said gruffly, and turned to Leske and Duran, "It's about time you two showed up. What happened with Oskias?"

Duran tossed him the pouch, "He's guilty. Here's the lyrium."

"That's all? I guess the duster was smart enough to keep his main stash topside," Beraht pocketed it, "And Oskias himself."

"He won't be bothering you again."

"Absolutely. Dead as a plate of chops. Screaming for mercy, telling the ancestors to bless your name. Real, real dead," Leske added quickly. Ancestors, Leske was going to ruin them.

Beraht did not seem convinced, "Very interesting, seeing how my cousin was at the Tapsters this afternoon. And he says he saw something change hands between you and Oskias, and then the duster sodding stood up, and walked out on his own two feet! Does that sound like what I asked? Jarvia, what does that sound like to you?"

Jarvia, a skilled fighter, but rather unattractive dwarf, petted Beraht's arm seductively, "Sounds like some jumped-up face-brands thought they could take a bribe and let him walk free. That's just not right."

Beraht wrapped an arm around Jarvia, and Duran had to keep from vomiting, "The lady says it's not right. You wouldn't disagree with a lady, would you?"

"Fine. I'll tell you the truth," Duran lied, "The truth is we caught your cousin with Oskias. They were drinking together, and laughing at you."

Leske jumped on the lie, "Yeah, he was telling him how, because you were related, you'd never suspect him."

"We didn't want to take care of him there, being how he's your blood, but I guess he hoped you'd kill us before we could tell you."

Jarvia was thoughtful for a moment, "You know, Goran's always been jealous of you. He might do it."

"Find him for me, Jarvia. We'll see what he has to say about this story," Beraht ordered, then when Jarvia had gone, he said, "I'm going to give you one more chance. One job. You split on this one, and you and your sweet sister are both out on the street."

"Let me guess; I don't really have a choice," Duran muttered.

Beraht grinned, "You're catching on. The Warrior Caste is hosting a Proving today—all the best fighters, last man standing--you know the sort of thing. They're showing off for some Grey Warden who's looking for some candidates to drag off to a life of eternal glory."

That certainly caught Duran's attention. Becoming a Grey Warden would certainly gain him glory, and he could fight the darkspawn. Of course, it would mean going to the surface, but going to the Surface as a Warden was an honorable task. When the Blight was won, he could return to Orzammar with honor, and Rica wouldn’t need to work for Beraht anymore. He listened intently as Beraht continued, "Now, it's not often we get every name fighter in Orzammar lined up like that, and I have certain acquaintances who...take an interest in this sort of thing."

"You're taking bets on the fighters," Duran confirmed.

"There's a lot of coin to be made when people get the fever up. Favored fighter's an officer named Mainar, veteran of four darkspawn campaigns. Everd's a long-shot. Just got back from a Deep Roads offensive. Some young buck who has all the ladies drooling. I've got a lot of money riding on him. Mine and other people's. I expect to see that eight-to-one payoff. Understand?"

Duran still wasn't sure what Beraht wanted from them, "So, how am I supposed to help Everd win?"

"The fight only gets announced to contestants themselves... to prevent illegal gambling. So first, you'll have to find Everd, see who he's fighting, and when. When the name Mainar comes up, I want you to slip this drug into the bastard's water," he handed a small vial to Duran, "It'll slow his reflexes, just enough to take the edge off, not enough to show. But it wears off quickly, so don't use it until just before his fight."

Duran examined the vial before slipping it into his pouch, "Does Everd know you're doing this?"

Beraht scoffed, "He's the kind of warrior who wants to show off his oiled physique to a cheering crowd. You think he wants scum like us making money on him? Don't let him know what you're doing. Just find his chamber, see when he's fighting, then go to Mainar, and dump the drug."

"How am I supposed to get to Mainar's water?"

"He should have an alcove for his pre-fight preparations. All the fighters are provided basins of water. If you're asking how to sneak in there, you're pretty much saying you're no good to me."

"We'll go there now."

"You bet you will. Here's your pass to get on the grounds. The Proving starts as soon as the clock strikes," Beraht handed them the passes, "And when I say I have coin on this, I'm not talking about some pittance, like the value of your life. If I don't see Everd's name on the winner's sheet, you'd better make sure I never see you, or your sister, ever again."

Of all the things Duran thought he would never do, entering the Proving grounds was one of them. His heart pounded as they approached the massive doors to the sacred grounds, excitement growing with every step. The guard had given them trouble, but no more than they had expected. When they had showed him the passes, Duran and Leske were permitted into the entrance hall to the grounds where dwarves of every caste milled about, contestant and spectator alike.

Duran's heart leapt at the sight of the grounds. He had never seen anything so beautiful. The stone was perfectly cut and polished. The flames emitted an almost blue glow across the floors. So much detail had been put into every single carving that he thought he could get lost in them. Plush, velvet covered couches were stationed in each alcove, accompanied by fruits from the surface, and dwarven wines.

Duran was ripped out of his reverie by Leske elbowing him in the ribs to point out the Grey Warden, who was flanked by two young women in strange clothing. Determined not to let this chance go to waste, Duran approached the tall human. The Warden bowed when he saw Duran, "Stone-met and blessings on your house. That was the proper greeting for an outsider last time I visited Orzammar. Has it changed? Or is there a reason you're looking at me so strangely?"

"Well, I don't exactly have a house..."

"My apologies. I meant no offense. My name is Duncan. I'd say 'of the Grey Wardens,' but I suspect you already know that. And the lovely lady here," he motioned to the girl with the dark hair, "Is Solona, Warden recruit of the Circle of Magi, and this young lady," he motioned to the blonde, "Is Tori Trevelyan, ambassador from the Circle of Magi."

"Is it true you're here looking for recruits?"

"The Wardens are always looking for those who have the courage to spend their lives in battle against the darkspawn. It's rare we find those with both the skill and the will. The best Wardens are ruthless to their enemies, compassionate to their friends, and inspiring to their troops," sent a warm smile toward the mages, "It's a lot to look for, but I hope to find it here. And I hope you may also find what you are looking for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love seeing all the views and the kudos. Feel free to leave a comment!


	7. What He's Looking For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duran joins the Wardens. Look. I am bad at summaries.

Solona and Tori followed Duncan through the Proving grounds, and to their seats at the very top of the stone arena. At first, Tori had been fascinated by the stone city, entranced by the angular statues, and enchanted by the people. The unfortunate part was that stone made up everything. Every couch, chair, table, toilet, tub, and bed, though beds still had a soft mat on top of them. It was uncomfortable, and there were so many rules governing dwarven society that Tori thought her head might explode. All of that was on top of the fact that she was constantly breathing stale air, and was surrounded by raw lyrium, tempting her to cast a spell.

She knew that Solona was struggling even more than she was. Solona had always been a talented mage, never needing a staff or any sort of device to conduct her magic. She knew what she wanted it to do, and how to shape it to her will, but in Orzammar, the dark-haired girl gripped a plain staff as though her life depended on it. There were no Templars beneath the surface, but the memory of Circle life was still so recent that the old habits still marked their actions.

"So, what's this Proving about anyway?" Tori asked, her legs burning as they climbed the steep steps leading to their place of honor. Duncan climbed on ahead, not letting them slow their pace.

"It's an ancient tradition where the dwarves pit the best warriors against each other for the sake of honor and glory."

"And it's in our honor?"

"Yes. They know we come seeking recruits, so they want to offer us a selection of their best."

"Does that happen often?" Solona asked.

He chuckled, "Only among the dwarves, I'm afraid. The other races regard us with honor, but the dwarves most of all. They spend their lives fighting the darkspawn, as I mentioned before, and they revere the Grey Wardens for their sacrifices. They believe only the best of the dwarves deserve a place among our ranks."

Tori wanted to blast the never ending steps, "So, what happens when you go to the other races? You conscript all your recruits?"

"Not necessarily. There are many knights of moderate talent and good hearts that are willing to serve. Young lords with many older brothers and sisters who seek to make their own mark, and there are those who wish to improve their lives by joining our ranks. If they have talent, or show that they would be teachable, we accept them."

"Are there any Templars among your ranks?" Solona asked quietly.

Tori whipped her head up, her burning legs forgotten. Why would Solona be asking about Templars among the Wardens?

Duncan shook his head, "We have had some Templar recruits among our ranks, but we have never conscripted Templars. They have their own sacred duty, and we, thankfully, have never been so desperate to need their assistance."

"Oh," Solona said sadly.

Tori watched Solona, curious about what her friend could be thinking. Was she worried that Templars would come after her? Duncan had told her that they were safe from Templars since they were traveling with the Wardens. Didn't she believe him?

After what seemed like miles of stone steps, they reached the seats of honor that had been set aside for them. Sereda Aeducan, a lovely dwarf who they had met at the reception King Aeducan had given to honor them the day before. She was slender by the standards of dwarves, with copper colored hair that she kept in a long braid, and favored two daggers to traditional swords or battle axes. Tori was glad to spend more time with Sereda, but was glad her brothers had decided to forgo the event. 

Trian and Bhelen had spent most of the banquet the night before arguing. Trian had been named commander of his father’s troops, and it seemed that did not sit well with Bhelen. Sereda had been the only one able to calm them down, albeit temporarily. The night had apparently ended in a brawl, though Duncan had whisked Tori and Solona away before it started.

When everyone had been seated, Sereda stood to announce, "This is a glory Proving, fought under the watchful eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar for our honored guests, the Grey Wardens."

The cheers of the crowd grew too loud for Sereda to continue for several moments. When the noise finally subsided, she declared, "First, the warrior, Everd, son of Galten, will fight Officer Mainar, survivor of the battle at Kar Elerin!" The two warriors took a moment to greet each other. Tori tried to make out what they were saying, but there was too much yelling and cheering going on. Finally, Sereda spoke again, "The first warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!"

Tori watched the two warriors eagerly. She had watched templars spar before, but that was only for practice. This was real fighting, and there was a sense of excitement that had her on the edge of her seat. The fight did not last very long. The warrior, Everd, dodged all of Mainar's attacks, and downed the veteran in less than two minutes.

The crowd roared with excitement. Tori swore she heard some dwarven women yelling lewd things at the victor. Sereda stood, calming the crowd with a wave of her hands, "The winner is Everd! A truly memorable fight. The young cadet vanquishes the wily veteran! Healer, see to his injuries."

It was several minutes before the next match was ready to begin, but, finally, two warriors appeared from either end of the arena again, and Sereda announced, "The warrior Everd, son of Galten, will fight last year's Journeyman Division champion Adalbo, proven in glory before the Stone."

Again the warriors bowed to each other, and exchanged words. When they had finished, Sereda announced the start of the fight. The champion, Adalbo, fought with one of the traditional giant axes Tori had seen all over Orzammar. He charged in against his opponent fearlessly, and Tori wondered if this match would be as short as the last.

"Adalbo has gotten careless in his victory," Sereda said casually.

"What do you mean?"

"Look," she pointed at the warriors, "He leaves himself open to attacks, and he leaves Everd plenty of time to dodge or block. Also, he's charging so fast, that if Everd dodges he'll keep going, or fall. It gives his opponent the advantage."

Tori watched, attempting to study the fight as the princess was. She was right. Everd dodged, and Adalbo fell, allowing Everd to take him down with several quick, precise blows. Sereda winked before standing to address the crowd again.

"The winner is Everd!" she said amongst the cheers and applause, "The ancestors have withdrawn their blessings, and embrace a new champion on their field. Healers, please see to any injuries."

As before, it was several minutes of cleaning the arena, and casual chatter before the next two warriors appeared. Tori was surprised to see the warrior Everd again, but she supposed that was part of the Proving as well. Sereda took a deep drink of wine before standing, "The warrior Everd, son of Galten, will fight, Lenka, Silent Sister-in-training. She has made her vows, but not completed her blooding. Will she be accepted into the legendary order? That will depend on her performance today..."

In keeping with the title of "Silent Sister," the dwarven woman did not say anything. The warrior, Everd, however, bowed, and said something about honor and glory. Sereda nodded, "First warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!"

When she had reseated herself, "You know, sometimes announcing a Proving can be tedious. I know it's an honorable tradition, but do you think Trian and Bhelen have ever done it? No. They think it's beneath them."

"Why would they? You just said it's an honorable tradition," Solona asked from her spot next to Duncan.

"They don't mind watching, of course, but they don't think it's worth their time to commentate," Sereda took another sip of wine.

There was no time to ponder it, however, as Sereda stood to announce the winner of the last fight, "The winner is Everd! Lenka went to the stone without a word, as befits her vows, but it wasn't hard to see the blood that was spilled. Healers, see to their injuries."

Finally, Sereda announced, "Everd will advance to the final bout, to determine the true champion of the ring, against--."

Gasps and mutters filled the arena as a drunken dwarf stumbled into the arena, "Is my bout a'ready?" He stared at Everd in the ring, "Hey! That's my armor!"

"Who are you?" Sereda demanded, "How dare you disrupt this sacred--?"

"Wait!" one of the fighters called from nearby, "I know that man. That's Everd! Then... what imposter did I fight?"

"Remove your helmet, warrior, and let all who watched you see your face."

Tori saw Solona lean forward to watch. She had always loved a good intrigue. Tori, on the other hand, was watching Sereda, who seemed uncommonly composed, not unlike Solona when she was upset. Duncan seemed mildly amused by the whole thing, which Tori wasn't sure was an appropriate response, but typical for Duncan. Did everything amuse the man?

"I will not," the warrior called back, "Have my victories not earned me your respect?"

"Your skills are impressive, but you are one man. Show yourself, lest I call the guards and have them do it for you!"

The warrior bowed, "Very well. Look then, and see who I am."

Tension and anticipation grew as the guards and the real Everd approached the imposter. He drew back, hands slowly raising to his head. Tori thought she might have to grab Solona from jumping off the balcony in excitement in a moment, but she couldn't blame her. Sereda looked just as intrigued now, and Duncan still amused. Then, the helm lifted, showing a mildly familiar face as the borrowed helmet crashed onto the stone floor.

"Shit," Sereda swore.

Insults, curses, and cries of outrage rang from every dwarf in attendance. Tori looked around, searching for what had happened to upset them all. Solona didn't seem to understand, and even Duncan seemed mildly confused. Finally, she turned her attention to Sereda, who seemed to be fighting back tears, though of rage or sorrow, it was impossible to tell. Duncan stood, studying the warrior, and understanding seemed to dawn on him. 

One of the warriors shouted, "Casteless! You insult the very nature of this Proving! Guards, take this... filth away!"

"Wait!" Tori begged Sereda, "Please. This warrior has bested the best you have to offer. Isn't that what a Proving is about?"

Sereda steadied herself, "There are laws which have governed this arena for a thousand years. This man is not a warrior. He is casteless, rejected by the ancestors. His very footsteps pollute the Stone. He has no place here."

"Except as your champion..." Duncan added, then led Solona and Tori away to their rooms. They’d had enough excitement for one day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you awake yet?" a familiar voice hissed, "Can you hear me?"

Duran opened his eyes, glancing around at unfamiliar surroundings. He was in a cell of some kind. Torches flickered across the dark, grimy stone. He reached for his lock picks, but they were gone. His weapons too. Of course. After checking to make sure nothing was broken or bleeding, Duran stood, stretching his cramped muscles. How long had he been asleep down here? Where was here?

"How hard did they sodding hit you, anyway? Did you have to put up such a fight?" Leske asked from the opposite cell.

"Leske? What happened?"

Leske moved to the front of his cell, "As soon as everyone saw your face-brand, the place went mad. Shut all the doors, examined everyone for family and caste. One of the guards recognized me, and figured we must be working together. They burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who put us up to this. I think they knew, you know, about Beraht."

The name struck fear into Duran again, "Beraht said he'd go for Rica if we're caught. We need to go."

"You think I didn't look for a way out? Rica's not the only one in danger here. They could kill us! But these cells are built straight into the wall, and the confiscated all my lock-picks. What's it look like on your side? You see any way out?"

There was no time to answer before Jarvia entered the prison, "Good. You're awake. Beraht will be glad to hear that."

"Jarvia? What are you doing here?" Duran asked suspiciously. Her being there could not be a good thing.

"You caused a lot of trouble yesterday. Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for Lord Vollney. The entire Proving was declared invalid, and the Assembly already called and investigation. You can't imagine the state Beraht was in when he told me to get you."

"Let me talk to Beraht. I can explain what happened."

"All he needs to know is you exposed him before the entire Warrior Caste. Now they're asking questions, and as long as you have tongues to answer them, you’re a threat. Enjoy your last night together, boys. Beraht'll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence."

Jarvia turned to leave, but she was dead before she could make it to the door. Duran watched as a cloaked dwarf stepped from the shadows, bloody daggers in both hands. He groaned. He knew those steps, those daggers. Hadn't he spent nearly a year taking odd jobs whenever he could to buy them? They had cost four whole sovereigns, a pittance to nobles, but he would have sold his soul to get them for his love. By the stone, he was going to kill her for getting involved. Without a word, she moved both daggers into one hand, shoving bloody keys into his.

He grabbed her hands, "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," she whispered.

Leske was babbling, and asking questions, but they both ignored him. Duran didn't let go of her hands as he unlocked the cell, "Why are you doing this?'

"The guards are coming, and I've sent for the Grey Wardens to join them. I spoke to the leader, Duncan. He's agreed that you would make an excellent recruit."

"And Leske?"

"Full pardon and an allowance if he testifies against people Beraht was using. Beraht, unfortunately, is dead. Sorry to deny you that pleasure," she squeezed his hand, "I'm glad you're alive."

He laughed, "I still haven't decided whether I want to kiss you or kill you for this, but I'm glad I'm alive too. You know this makes us even, right?"

She scoffed, "After the way you saved my ass all those times? I'll be lucky if I ever make it up to you."

"How'd you get past the guards?"

"Oh, you know. Womanly charms."

"You mean you batted your pretty eyelashes at them before you slit their throats, don't you?"

Her smile made his heart race, "You know me so well."

"How are you going to get out?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I have my way out. You and your friend over there just need to get out, and quickly. Maybe stab the guards a few times so it isn't obvious someone helped you, would you?"

"Of course," Duran swung open the door, pulling her to his chest. By the stone, he loved the woman, "Thank you."

A tear rolled down her perfect cheek, but her voice was steady, "I couldn't let them kill you. Now, go. Join the Wardens, and become a hero. When you return, Orzammar will throw the biggest banquet in your honor."

"I'll bring you some surface chocolate."

She kissed his nose, "I would refuse to see you if you didn't. Now save that blubbering idiot and get out of here!"

He kissed her hard, trying to put all of his love for her in that one act, "I love you. Be safe."

"I love you."

She disappeared a moment later, and Duran released Leske, who was still demanding answers about the woman in the hood. He only stopped when Duran threatened to bloody his blade with Leske's throat if the dwarf didn't shut his mouth. They quickly donned the armor, and grabbed their weapons from the crate. She had done a good job of dispatching the guards and Beraht, but Duran made sure to stain his blade with some of Beraht's blood, "For Rica."

With a last look at the room, they opened the door to the commons, facing a contingent of dwarven guards, and the Grey Warden, Duncan, and his two mage companions. Mainar was leading them.

When he spotted Duran, he cried, "There they are! Seize the fugitives!"

Guards raced toward them, and a noble advised, "Drop your weapons, and walk down slowly. We will use force if you resist."

"I just killed Beraht," he said, unable to contain the sarcasm, "You should be thanking me."

"He's dead?" the noble asked, obviously shocked, "Beraht had many enemies, but also powerful allies. They--."

"Beraht would have butchered us if we hadn't killed him first!" Leske shouted.

Duncan stepped forward, "You have once again demonstrated your courage. We Grey Wardens travel far and wide in search of those with the potential to join our ranks. It seems I have found one."

Duran's heart raced, "Are you asking me to become a Grey Warden?"

"Let me make my offer formal. I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, extend the invitation for you to join our order."

"This man is a criminal," the noble argued, "You can't do this!"

"So is Solona," the blonde mage said, though it seemed she was saying it mostly to herself. The mage called Solona glared at her friend. Duran was mildly startled. Of either of them, he would not suspect the mage called Solona to be the criminal.

"I can and I am," Duncan turned to Duran, "It would mean traveling to the surface lands, and thus, leaving your people, but it does offer you the chance to strike a blow against the darkspawn and the Blight."

He looked to Rica, tears streaming down her beautiful face, "I accept your offer. I would be honored to join you. Can I have a moment?"

"Of course. Take your time. When you're ready, we will leave."

Duran didn't linger saying good-bye to Leske. He did ask his friend to keep an eye out for Rica, but, in spite of all his jokes, Duran already knew Leske would. They had all grown up together, and Leske would never allow Rica to be mistreated. And he would never try anything with her unless she made it clear it was wanted. Still, it couldn’t hurt to remind him.

Saying goodbye to Rica took longer. She cried into his shoulder for several minutes before they were able to have any semblance of a conversation. He told her that Leske would help look out for him, but she assured him that things with her mysterious patron were going well. The man was moving her into better lodging to have her closer, and apparently was showering her with gifts, and had a pet name for her. Whoever the man was, so long as he was good to Rica, he was okay in Duran's opinion.

With a final hug, and a kiss on Rica's painted cheek, Duran turned to Duncan, "I'm ready, Warden."

"Come, then. We shall buy supplies, and head for the surface."

Gathering supplies took less than an hour, and, in that time, Duran soaked up every image he could of Orzammar. He had always dreamed of making a better life, possibly even going to the surface, but now that it was upon him, he felt a bit homesick. He would miss the smells of Dust Town, and the feel of stone all around him. He would miss arguing with his mother, and joking with Leske, and the suffocating smells of Rica's expensive perfumes and bath soaps. Most of all, he would miss  _ her _ . The only person who ever made Orzammar worth all the suffering.

Finally, they were at the doors that would lead to the surface. Duncan paused, allowing Duran to gather his bearings before they proceeded. When he nodded, the guards opened the door, and a blast of crisp, clean air hit Duran, rushing into his lungs. The air was invigorating! Was this how it always was on the surface? He felt so light! So alive! He wanted to run! To jump! He considered doing both until he noticed it-- the sky. A limitless expanse that was the purest azure he had ever seen, except for a few fluffy, white things drifting lazily in it. He glanced around, looking for something to distract him from the dizzying sky. Then he noticed the trees. He knew they were called trees because he had seen pictures of them, and smaller ones had been cut down and brought into Orzammar, but these were huge! Towering giants with thick branches. Some were full of green leaves, while others were laden with what looked like long, thick, green needles.

"Have you really never seen it before?" Solona asked.

He jumped, "Never. How do you keep from falling into the sky?"

"Things don't fall up, but that hasn't stopped us from trying."

"By the stone! You actually try to fall up there?"

She giggled, "Of course, but we call it flying, and many mages and inventors devote their lives trying to master it. They study birds and dragons, from a safe distance, of course, and hope that, one day, we will fly as they do."

"I think you humans might be insane from all this air," he grumbled.

"You can't fool me," she sang, "You're intrigued. You want to know all about this world, the sky. I'll bet you will want to know the names of all the starts and constellations."

"What in the sod are stars and constellations?"

Tori fell back to join the conversation, "Constellations are groups of stars that make a picture that tells a story. Stars are like little lights-."

Solona cut her off, " _ You _ can’t describe stars for him. You'll ruin them. Honestly. Stars are glistening jewels in the night sky. See, when the sun sets, and the moon comes out, the sky turns a rich, velvety, navy blue, and the stars shine like diamonds."

"Sun? Moon?"

Tori pointed to the bright, yellow orb in the sun, "That's the sun, it rises in the east, and sets in the west every day. That'll make a lot more sense when you see it."

"And when the sun sets," Solona continued, "The moon rises. It's smaller, white, and doesn't give off so much light, so it makes the world dark. That's when we sleep."

Solona was happy to tell Duran all about the plants they saw, the sun, and answer any questions about life on the surface, especially magic. Tori was equally pleased to answer questions, but she deferred most questions to her friend. A small smile tugged at her lips as she watched Solona prattle on.

Eventually, Duncan asked Solona to help him with healing a wounded animal, and Tori and Duran were left alone. Duran enjoyed the peace of the woods for a moment before asking, "Is she always that chatty?"

Tori laughed, "No. She's talking because she's nervous."

"Why is she nervous?"

"She's trying to make you feel better about leaving everything behind, and she's never been particularly good with strangers. She either clams up, or, well, rambles. I think you're good for her, actually."

He stared at her in confusion, "How can I be good for her?"

"She was forced away from her only home against her will, betrayed by someone who was supposed to be her friend, and used by her mentor. She never wanted to leave the Circle. She chose to do the right thing in an impossible situation, and she still paid the price, nearly with her life."

"You mentioned she was a criminal," he remembered.

Tori scoffed, "Against her will."

"How is someone a criminal against their will?"

Tori watched where Solona and Duncan were still bandaging up the mother rabbit, taking care not to disturb her litter, "She was told to do something illegal in order to stop a greater evil, and she was still punished. Of course, she was screwed either way. The only reason she got out alive was because Duncan was there."

"She still has you."

"I had to fight to be allowed to leave the tower with her, and I can go back whenever I want. But you're good for her because she needs something to focus on that isn't her own pain. She needs someone to help. Just let me know if she goes too far."

He nodded. At that moment, Duncan and Solona returned to the group. Thinking on Tori's words, Duran asked Solona about the mother rabbit and how she was able to heal the creature. The conversation led them into a sincerely interesting and informative conversation about healing that carried the three of them through until they reached a stopping point for the evening.

Camp was set and dinner was cooking when Solona approached Duran, "I'd like to show you something."

He followed her to a nearby hill, still visible from the campsite, "What am I looking at?"

She pointed to the sky. He stood, waiting. It took several minutes for him to understand. The sun was setting, and what Tori had called the horizon was turning orange, while the rest of the sky was melting into blue, indigo, a rich purple, and finally, the dark blue Solona had spoken of. Minutes passed as they watched. The sun shrank, and the sky darkened. The white fluffy things called clouds were turning a shade of purple that reminded Duran of the color of one of Rica's dresses.

After nearly half an hour, the silvery orb called the moon had taken her place in the sky, and the glittering jewels called stars had started their dance. They waited a few more moments before Solona stood to head back to camp. Duran followed her, "Is it that beautiful every night?"

"Yes, and the sunrise is just as lovely."

He smiled as they approached Tori and Duncan, both of whom were already eating dinner. Maybe life on the surface would not be so bad after all.


	8. Welcome to Highever Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duncan and Solona leave Duran and Tori in town while they travel to Highever Castle for recruits.

Aedan Cousland navigated through the halls of Highever Castle with ease in his quest to meet with his father and Arl Howe in the main hall. They were supposed to begin the march to Ostagar that morning to send aid to King Cailan's armies there. Guards and soldiers alike bowed or saluted as Aedan passed, and he did his best to call them each by name in return, no easy task considering their sheer numbers.

Finally, he reached the main hall to hear Arl Howe saying, "I expect they will start arriving tonight, and we can march tomorrow. I apologize for the delay, my lord. This is entirely my fault."

"No, no," Aedan heard his father say, "The appearance of the darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn't it? I only received the call from the king a few days ago, myself. I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days!"

Arl Howe gave a nasally laugh, "True. Though we both had less gray in our hair then. And we fought Orlesians, not... monsters."

Bryce Cousland chuckled, "At least the smell will be the same."

Aedan approached the two men with a smile, "Hello, Father. Hello, Arl Howe."

"I'm sorry, pup; I didn't see you there. Howe, you remember my youngest? Although, I dare say he's grown since you've last seen him.”

"Yes, yes," Arl Howe smiled, "I see he's grown into a fine young man. Pleased to see you again, lad."

"And you, Arl Howe," Aedan answered politely. He was not particularly fond of the man, but Howe was old friends with his father, and that was all the encouragement Aedan needed to be polite.

"My daughter, Delilah, asked after you. Perhaps I should bring her next time."

Aedan smiled, thinking of Howe's lovely, charming daughter, "I'd like that."

The arl grinned, "Good! How she does go on about your prowess as a warrior! I think you have an admirer, young man."

"At any rate, pup," Bryce interrupted, "I'm glad you're here. While your brother and I are both away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

"What? Why can't I go into battle with you and Fergus?"

Bryce smiled at his son, "I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself, but I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war. She'd kill me if I let you go. She's already twisted into knots about Fergus and me going."

"Let me talk to her," Aedan suggested, "I'll convince her."

"I doubt that. You know your mother, and she made it clear there is no debate. This is no needless task. I ask you to take a great responsibility," he explained, "Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

Aedan nodded.

Bryce clapped him on the back, "Now, I also have some people I want you to meet. Please... show Duncan and his guest in."

Aedan watched as the guards admitted a manned with tanned skin, and dark hair drawn back into a ponytail, two blades strapped to his back. Next to him walked a young woman with dark hair, fair skin, and dressed in a red robe. Aedan suspected from her clothing the girl might be a mage, but she wore no staff. The man named Duncan bowed to Teryn Cousland, "It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teryn Cousland."

The young woman curtsied deeply, her eyes glued to the floor. Duncan grabbed her hand gently to pull her forward, "And this is a very promising recruit-- Solona Amell, of the Circle of Magi. We have another recruit as well as an ambassador from the Circle with us, but it seems our dwarven recruit is still having trouble finding his surface sense, so they beg your pardon, my lord. They will not be joining us this evening."

Bryce kissed Solona's hand, "We are very happy to have you within our halls."

"Your Lordship," Howe interrupted nervously, "You didn't mention that Grey Wardens would be present."

The teryn raised an eyebrow, "Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?"

"Of course not," the arl assured, "But guests of this stature demand a certain protocol. I am... at a disadvantage."

"We rarely have the pleasure of seeing them in person, that's true," Bryce turned his attention to his son, "Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?"

He nodded, "They're an order of great warriors who defeated the darkspawn long ago."

"Not permanently, I fear," Duncan admitted sadly.

Bryce slapped Duncan on the back, "Without their warning of the darkspawn rising now, half the nation could have been overrun before we'd had a chance to react. Duncan is looking for a few more recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Duncan cleared his throat, "If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your son is also an excellent candidate."

The teryn did not take kindly to the suggestion, "Honor though that may be, this is one of my sons we're talking about."

Aedan, who was rather keen on the idea of joining the legendary order asked, "Is there a reason I shouldn't join them?"

"You did just finish saying that Grey Wardens are heroes, old friend," Arl Howe pointed out.

"I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle," he answered firmly, "Unless you intend to invoke the Rite of Conscription?"

Duncan shook his head, "Have no fear, my friend. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

Bryce nodded, clearly relieved, "Aedan, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

"Of course."

"In the meantime, find Fergus, and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me. And would you mind taking Miss Amell with you? I wish to speak to the arl and Duncan alone.”

The mage shot a panicked look to Duncan, who simply nodded for her to go. Aedan bowed, then offered his arm. Tentatively, she accepted, allowing him to lead her through the labyrinth of the castle. He wasn't quite sure what to talk to her about. He knew little to nothing of magic, and he wasn't sure she would want to talk about magic. Surely, she had talked about magic her whole life.

Luckily, he was saved having to choose a topic because Ser Gilmore raced up to them, "There you are! Your mother told me the teryn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt."

"Hello, Ser Gilmore."

"Pardon my manners, my lord. It's simply that I've been looking all over the castle for you. I fear your hound has the kitchens in an uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave."

Aedan laughed, "She was my nanny before she was the cook. Nan won't leave."

"Your mother disagrees. She insists you collect the dog, and quickly. You know these mabari hounds. They listen only to their master; anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."

"Then I guess I'll go get him."

"You're quite lucky to have your own mabari war hound."

The soft voice from the mage startled both of the men so much that they both jumped. Ser Gilmore recovered first with a nod, "Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say."

"Of course, that means he must be easily bored," Solona Amell added.

Ser Gilmore smiled at her, "Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself."

Solona offered a shy smile, and the knight turned his attention back to Aedan, "At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?"

Aedan led them through the halls to the kitchen, where Nan was berating a pair of elven servants. Maker, he wished she wouldn't do that. The Couslands had always treated elves well, and had even taken elven squires for the men or ladies'-in-waiting for the women. Nan, however, didn't care about titles or race. All she cared about was having assistants that helped.

She didn't approve of such things as being afraid of a giant dog that might rip your arm off, or the like. Of course, she was also the same woman who sent baskets of baby clothes to any of the servants who had a baby, and spent her free time making clothes and blankets for the poor.

"If I can't get into that larder, I'll skin both you useless elves, I swear it!" Nan scolded.

"Err... calm down, good woman. We've come to help..." Ser Gilmore said awkwardly.

"You!" Nan shrieked, "And you! Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!"

"He's not a mongrel," Aedan argued, "He's a pureblood mabari."

"A blight wolf is what he is! How am I supposed to work like this?" 

One of the elven assistants laid a hand on Nan's arm, "Oh, dear. Mistress, calm down, please..."

Nan shrugged her off, "That's it! I'll quit. Inform the teyrna. I'll go cook at some nice estate in the Bannorn."

Ser Gilmore started to panic, "Nan, please! We'll ger the dog. Calm down."

"Just get him gone! I've enough to worry about with a castle full of hungry soldiers!"

Aedan pushed past her into the larder. Ser Gilmore followed him, but the mage stayed in the kitchen to mollify Nan and do her best to help with dinner. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delays in updates. My laptop crashed over the holidays, and I lost a lot of my work. I'm caught back up for now, so it will be back to posting once a week. Comments and kudos welcome!

"There he is, as brazen as you please, licking his chops after helping himself to the roast, no doubt!" Nan scolded, hands on her hips.

"Actually, he was defending your larder from rats. Big ones," Aedan patted Templar affectionately.

One of the servants shrieked, "W-what? Rats? Not the large, grey ones? They'll rip you to shreds, they will!"

Nan smacked Aedan with a cleaning rag, "See? Now you've gone and scared the servants! I expect those filthy things are dead."

"My faithful war hound made sure it's safe," he assured her.

"Hmph. I bet that dog led those rats into there to begin with."

Templar whined pitifully, but Nan was having none of it, "Oh, don't even start with the sad eyes! I'm immune to your so-called charms."

He whined again, this time even more dramatically, cowering low like he was truly sorry.

Nan sighed, "Here, then. Take these pork bits, and don't say that Nan never gives you anything! Bloody dog. And thank you, my lord. Now we can get to work."

Solona appeared at Nan's side, "Can I be of any more help, ma'am?"

"No, dear. You've been a huge help," Nan replied, rewarding Solona with a rare smile, then she barked at the cowering servants, "That's right, you two, quit standing about!"

"I suppose that's our cue to find Fergus," Aedan offered his arm to Solona again, "Shall we?"

"I'll leave you to that," Ser Gilmore said as they exited the kitchen, "If there's a Grey Warden here to test me, I want to make sure I'm at my best. Perhaps next time I see you, we will both be Warden recruits, Lady Amell."

She stared at him blankly, "That would be nice."

With a bow, Ser Gilmore excused himself, leaving Aedan and Solona alone again. She didn't seem to be inclined toward conversation, so he focused his attentions on studying her. She was slightly shorter than average, and of an average build, but with dark hair she left down past her shoulders and silver eyes. She was more fair-skinned than most Ferelden's, but he supposed a part of that was spending most of her life indoors. All in all, she looked the part of a mage--quiet, mysterious, beautiful, though not in the way of most women he saw at court.

As they made their way through the castle to find Fergus, they came upon Aedan's mother as she was showing off a necklace his father had given her, "And my dear Bryce brought this back from Orlais last year. The marquis who gave it to him was drunk, I understand, and mistook Bryce for the king."

The guests laughed, as the teyrna spotted Aedan, "And here is my younger son. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchen is handled?"

"Yes, Nan's head exploded and my hound ate the kitchen staff," he joked.

"Well, at least one of us will have had a decent dinner," she muttered before turning to her guests, "Darling, you remember Lady Landra? Bann Loren's wife?"

"I think we last met at your mother's spring salon," the homely older woman reminded him.

He bowed, "Of course, it's good to see you again, my lady."

She chuckled, "You're too kind, dear boy. Didn't I spend half the salon shamelessly flirting with you?"

"Right in front of your family too," her son reminded her.

"You remember my son, Dairren?" Lady Landra motioned to the red-haired man, "I believe you sparred in the last tourney."

"And you beat me handily, as I recall," he smirked as they shook hands, "It's good to see you again, my lord."

"And you, Dairren, though I remember you giving me quite the competition in that tourney. You did well. I'm sure you've only improved since then."

Lady Landra motioned to the blonde elven woman at her side, "And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona. Do say something, dear."

The beautiful, elven blushed, "It is a great home, my lord. I have heard many wonderful things about you."

"Don't look now, Eleanor, but I believe the girl has a crush on your lad."

"Lady Landra!" Iona shrieked.

"Hush Landra," Eleanor admonished, "You'll turn the poor thing scarlet." 

Aedan cleared his throat, "I think I might take this moment to introduce Lady Solona Amell. She's a Warden-recruit accompanying the Grey Warden who wants to test Ser Gilmore."

Eleanor beamed, "Very nice to meet you, Lady Amell. It is wonderful to have you here with us. How do you like Highever so far?"

Solona seemed startled by being addressed directly, "I-I've never seen a castle so grand, my lady. It's marvelous."

"Well, the Grey Wardens and their recruits are always welcome here."

"I think perhaps I shall rest now, my dear," Landra interrupted, "Dairren, I will see you and Iona at supper."

Dairren looked to Iona, "I think I shall retire to the study for now. Iona?"

When the guests had retired, Eleanor turned to her son, "You should say goodbye to Fergus while you have the chance."

"I have a bad feeling about all this," he confessed.

"So do I. Your father and brother are marching off to fight Maker-knows-what. All the assurances in the world don't comfort me. But it wouldn't help for us to take up arms and follow. Fergus and your father have their duty, and we have ours."

"Will you be staying at the castle?"

"For a few days. Then I'll travel with Lady Landra to her estate, and keep her company for a time. Your father thinks my presence here might undermine your authority."

Aedan couldn't shake the dread creeping over him, "I don't think you should go."

"Don't worry, my dear. It won't be long."

"I should go find Fergus then."

"I love you, my darling boy. You know that, don't you?"

He hugged her, planting a kiss on the top of her head, "I love you, too."

"Go do what you must, then. I will see you soon."

When they were out of earshot, Solona asked, "Why didn't you tell them?"

"That you're a mage?" he guessed.

"Yes."

He turned through the halls, "It wouldn't bother my parents, but you have to realize that a lot of people are afraid of mages. You and Lady Landra will only be here for a few days, and I saw no reason for it to be an unpleasant few days on the off chance she is afraid of mages."

"Should I not use magic while I'm here?"

"You can, but you should probably be careful of who is around when you do. Like I said, a lot of people are afraid of magic," he advised.

"Um, I don't mean to be intruding when you speak to your brother. Maybe you have a library or something?"

Aedan glanced over at her, "Yes, quite the extensive one, in fact. My grandfather was a scholar, and quite interested in magical studies in spite of the fact he had no magic of his own.”

She brightened, "Really?"

"Come on. I'll show you."

He changed his course, leading her through the maze of halls and rooms. Occasionally, he pointed out a significant statue or tapestry that she might find interesting. Solona was a good listener, always offering a smile or asking a question. She was also very interested in Templar, though she was rather taken aback by his name. When she asked, Aedan told her that he had gotten Templar when he was eleven, and determined to become a templar himself. Being a second son, he was not allowed to become a templar himself, but, as a child, he wasn’t ready to let go of his dream.

Solona did not seem at all put out by his confession that he had once wanted to be a Templar. In fact, it didn't seem to affect her at all. What did affect her, however, was the sight of the castle library. Aedan took a moment to introduce Solona to Aldous, who was happy to let the squires-in-training off for the rest of the day when he realized he had a genuinely curious student. Solona was equally relieved to find someone who revered her magical talent, and had just as many questions for her as she had for him.

When Solona had been situated comfortably in the library, Aedan made his way through the castle to the family quarters. Servants, guards, and soldiers bowed and greeted him as he passed, but Aedan was focused on finding his brother. He hoped his brother was, in fact, in the family quarters with Oren and Oriana. If he wasn't, Aedan had no intention of going to find his brother in Fergus's mistress's apartments in the city. Luckily, Fergus was with his wife and son in their quarters.

"Is there really gonna be a war, papa? Will you bring me back a sward?" Oren pleaded with his father.

Fergus knelt in front of his son, "That's 'sword,' Oren. And I'll get you the mightiest one I can find, I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

"I wish victory was indeed so certain," Oriana said anxiously, "My heart is... disquiet."

"Don't frighten the boy, love," Fergus answered in a falsely affectionate tone, "I speak the truth. And here's my little brother to see me off. Now dry your eyes, love, and wish me well."

"No darkspawn could harm our Fergus," Aedan assured.

Oriana pursed her lips, "He is as mortal as anyone, despite his refusal to believe."

"Now, love. No need to be so grim," Fergus retorted.

Aedan cut in before they could start fighting, "You'll be missed, brother."

"If it's any consolation, I'm sure I'll freeze in the southern rain, and be completely jealous of you up here, warm and safe."

"I am positively thrilled that you will be so miserable, husband," Oriana answered pleasantly.

"At any rate," Aedan interrupted again, "I bring a message: Father wants you to leave without him."

Fergus glowered, "Then the arl's men are delayed. You'd think his men were all walking backwards! Well, I'd better get underway. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time!"

He pecked Oriana on the cheek, "Off we go, then. I'll see you soon, my love."

"I would hope, dear boy, that you planned to wait for us before taking your leave," their father said from the doorway, their mother at his side.

Eleanor kissed her eldest son on the cheek, "Be well, my son. I will pray for your safety every day you are gone."

"Fergus will be fine, Mother," Aedan assured past the strange feeling in his gut. His anxious feeling about the battle was only growing.

"I keep telling you, no darkspawn will ever best me," Fergus boasted.

"The Maker sustain and preserve us all. Watch over our sons, husbands, and fathers and bring them safely back to us," Oriana prayed. 

"And bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it! Err...for the men, of course," he added quickly when he saw the glares from his wife and mother. Aedan was sure Fergus would be chasing ale and wenches even before the troops arrived in Ostagar.

"Fergus!" Oriana scolded, "You would say this in front of your mother?"

"What's a wench?" Oren piped up, "Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?"

Before anyone else could respond, Bryce knelt down to talk to his grandson, "A wench is a woman that pours ale in the tavern, Oren. Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

"Bryce!" Eleanor shoved him lightly, "Maker's breath, it's like living with a pack of small boys."

Fergus chuckled, pulling her in for an embrace, "I'll miss you, Mother dear. You'll take care of her, Brother, won't you?"

"You can count on me."

"Oh, good. How thrilling to know I'm so well taken-care of," she muttered.

"Enough, enough," Bryce placed an arm around his wife, then turned to Aedan, "Pup, you'll want to get an early night. You've much to do tomorrow."

"Getting sent to bed early, are we?" Fergus teased.

"I'd still rather be going with you," Aedan replied, more to his father than his brother.

"I'd rather that too. It'd be fun fighting side by side... Maybe next time. At any rate, I'll miss you. Take care of everyone, and be here when I get back."

With a last pat on his brother's back, and a quick embrace for his father, Aedan retired, hoping some rest would shake the twisting feeling in his gut.


	10. Escape from Highever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I had this next part in two places and kept forgetting to send myself the second piece! I'm going to add another chapter today to make up for it.

There were only two times in Aedan’s life that Templar had ever growled. The first had been when Lord Vaughn, Arl Urien’s son, had joined his father in visiting Highever, and picked a fight with Aedan, who was four years younger, and at the mercy of the older boy. Templar had jumped in to defend eight year old Aedan, never biting or harming Vaughn. He had put himself between the two boys, growling until Eleanor came to check on them. Vaughn had tried to tell the teyrna that Aedan was threatening him with Templar, but the servants told her what really happened. Arl Urien had not brought his son back to Highever with him since.

The second time was when Aedan was twelve. Aedan had been ill, and behind while his father, mother, and brother went out for a hunt. Thieves intent on robbing Highever had slipped past the guards. They were taking everything they could. When they noticed Aedan, they decided a hostage would be their ticket into the vault. They didn’t get a chance to grab him. Templar had pounced on the thieves, leaving all four of them with new scars. The commotion had drawn the guards, who all praised the mabari for his good work, and carted the culprits off to the dungeons.

When Aedan heard Templar growling and barking, he woke instantly. He didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the armor off the stand in his room and pulled it on. The door swung open as Aedan started to reach for his sword. One of the servants ran in, panicked, “My lord! Help me! The castle is under attack!”

Before the words were fully out of his mouth, two arrows lodged themselves in the servant’s back. Aedan watched as his blood stained the stone floor. With a lunch, Aedan grabbed for the sword, and followed Templar out of the room. He cut down the men who had killed the servant, stepping over their bodies without a second glance.

At the end of the hall, two men were trying to break into his mother and father’s room shouting, “Where is the teyrn? Tell us!”

He didn't pause. Templar leapt down the hall, chomping down on the arm of one of the attackers. Aedan swung his sword, decapitating the man as he raised his shield to block the blow coming from his left. He shoved the shield forward, throwing the other man off balance. Another swing, and the man went down. Only then, did he notice the armor. The bear on the shield. Arl Howe's men.

Before the information could process, his mother burst through the door dressed in her full armor, "Darling! I heard fighting outside, and I feared the worst. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. What's going on?"

"A scream woke me up. There were men in the hall, so I barred the door," Eleanor looked down at the slain men, "Did you see their shields? These are Arl Howe's men! Why would they attack us?"

Ideas swarmed in Aedan's mind, but he pushed them aside, "I don't know, Mother, but we need to get out of here."

"You don't think Howe's men were delayed...on purpose?" the idea took a moment to sink in, "That bastard! I'll cut his lying my throat myself!"

"Mother..."

"Have you seen your father? He never came to bed!"

Panic started to creep in, "No, I haven't. I was in my room until a minute ago."

“We must find him!”

“Are you okay to fight, Mother?” he asked gently.

He should have known better than to ask. The fire in her eyes was answer enough, “I am no Orlesian wallflower – give me a sword, and I’ll use it! Now let’s go!”

Aedan handed her the sword of one of the dead men, stepping over the bodies without a second glance. Arl Howe may have been their master, but how could anyone agree to such a plan?

Down the hall, they passed Fergus’s family quarters. The door was ajar. Before he could even process what he was seeing, Eleanor raced in, stopping as she took in the sight. It was almost too much to take in. On the floor, lying in a pool of their own blood, were Oren and Oriana. Oren looked so much smaller lying there, almost like a doll.

Aedan raced over, checking for breathing or a heartbeat, any sign of life. They couldn’t be dead. They just couldn’t. Only hours ago, Oren had been talking about griffons, and swords of truthiness. How could he be gone? And Oriana. She and Fergus hadn’t always gotten along, but she was kind to everyone, and a loving mother. It was obvious from how their bodies rested that she’d died trying to protect Oren.

“No!” Eleanor wailed, surging forward to take her grandson in her arms, “My little Oren! What manner of fiend slaughters innocents?”

Aedan tried to pull her away, “Don’t look, Mother.”

She shook him off, “Oh, I’ll look. I’ll remember this day when Howe dies screaming like the dog he is!”

Aedan moved to stand in the doorway, waiting for her to say her goodbyes. After a moment, Eleanor stood, “Let’s go. I don’t want to see this!”

With a long, last glance, they both turned away, setting a course for the main hall. They were just leaving the family quarters when a shimmering wall blocked their way. Aedan glanced around. Did Howe have mages at his disposal too?

“Who goes there?” a shaky voice called from the other side of the barrier.

“Take this barrier down, and -.” Aedan yelled, but Eleanor pulled him back.

“Is that you, Miss Amell?”

There was a pause, “Lady Cousland?”

“Yes, Aedan and I have dealt with the soldiers here. We were looking for Bryce. Do you know where he is?”

“When I went to bed, the teyrn and Arl Howe were still in the Great Hall with Duncan. Have either of you seen him?”

“No, we haven’t seen any of them, but we have reason to believe Arl Howe is the one who ordered the attack.”

The barrier faded, and the mage became visible on the other side. Blood was splattered on her clothes, her hair a mess. She had a look in her eyes that Aedan knew well - the look of fear one got when they killed another person for the first time. He wondered if she’d ever seen combat before. The Tower was protected from outside threats by the Templars. Since then, she’d been traveling with Duncan. Grey Wardens were well-respected; it was unlikely that they had been attacked on the way.

A part of him wanted to talk to her, to comfort her and tell her it would be okay, but there was no time. Every second they wasted made it more and more likely that his father would be dead.

“We need to keep moving,” Aedan ordered as Templar growled at the door to that led to the rest of the castle, “We have to find Father and Duncan. Then we can find out why the world has gone mad.”

Aedan led them through the castle while Templar raced on ahead to scout for trouble. They met several groups of Howe’s men, but Aedan’s anger fueled him, and they dispatched the soldiers with ease. Several servants and unsuspecting guests, including Lady Landra and her party, were found dead, their blood staining to stone floors of the castle. Solona took a moment to say prayers over the body of Iona and the scholar, Aldous. He wanted to scowl and snap at her to hurry, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. There was nothing more they could do for these people, but she took care to give them a prayer to send their souls to rest with the Maker. It was such a tender act in the midst of pain and chaos that it reminded Aedan of Oriana.

Aedan’s anger grew with each slain servant, soldier, or guest. These were his people. This was his home. Arl Howe had come into his home, accepted his father’s hospitality, and taken advantage of it, killing any innocents unfortunate enough to be in his path.

They checked every room for a sign of his father or Duncan, anyone who might be able to assist them. Would Howe even bother to take the teryn hostage or would he just kill him on sight? They certainly hadn’t taken Oriana and Oren captive. Aedan pushed the images out of his mind. He couldn’t think like that. He had to believe his father was still alive and that there was a way to save Highever Castle. If there wasn’t a way to save it, there had to be a way to get himself and his family out. Dying at the hand of a traitor was not an option.

At his mother’s insistence, Aedan agreed to stop in the family vault. There wasn’t much they could take, only a sword and shield made for the lord of Highever. The rest held boxes of jewels and coins and a few sacred heirlooms with no value beyond sentiment. When Aedan had equipped the new weapons, Eleanor locked the vault and tucked away the key, “It may not hold them off forever, but I do not want Howe’s traitorous hands on our family treasures.”

“We should head for the main hall,” Aedan looked to his mother. She looked tired, but mostly heartbroken. She’d seen her only grandchild slain in the arms of his mother, and her friends, innocents, cut down in their rooms simply for having the misfortune of being in Highever at the wrong time. Now her husband was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t Eleanor’s fault, but Aedan knew she felt guilty.

The sound of fighting grew louder as they navigated through the maze of halls. Eleanor stopped, “More fighting. Howe’s men must be everywhere.”

Aedan put a hand on her shoulder, though to comfort her or steady himself, he was not sure, “How can we get out of the castle?”

“The servants’ passage leads out from the larder. But we must find your father, first,” she thought for a minute, “The front gates. That’s where your father must be.”

“We can’t just let Howe win!” Aedan argued, tears threatening his eyes as he watched Highever castle burn around him. The smoke scratched at his throat, and he could barely make out the sound of screaming off in the distance.

“Listen, darling, we haven’t much time. If we can’t find your father, we  _ must _ get you out of here alive. Without you and Fergus, the entire Cousland line ends here. If Howe’s men are inside, they must already control the castle. We must use the servants’ entry in the larder to escape. Do you hear me?”

Her words felt like a blow to the gut. Of course. If Howe had managed to get to Fergus, or if the darkspawn did, Highever would pass to Oren, but Oren was gone. If Teyrn Cousland and Fergus were both dead, it would fall to Aedan. If Aedan died, it would be the end of the Cousland line. They had only distant cousins far removed. Aedan’s uncle, Alvin, had dedicated himself to the Chantry, refusing all titles and worldly goods. His other uncle had died in the war against Orlesians, leaving no immediate cousins on Bryce’s side.

The feel of a hand on his arm jerked Aedan out of his thoughts. The mage was looking up at him with her big, grey eyes, “We have to keep moving.”

“I want Howe dead,” he growled.

“Then survive,” she insisted, “Live and bring vengeance down upon him.”

Aedan steeled himself, shaking off her hand, “To the main hall. We’ll cut through to get to the larder. If father isn’t there, he might have made it to the larder already.”

Again, Aedan led them through the seemingly endless halls, dispatching any of Howe’s soldiers who dared stand in the way. Solona and Eleanor helped where they could, but Aedan and Templar were unstoppable. He struck down enemies before Solona could draw a spell or Eleanor her bow. Rage and fear propelled him through the halls, not caring about the danger.

He burst through the door to the main hall, ready to fight off Howe’s men, but froze when he saw Ser Gilmore shouting orders at a dozen or so soldiers dressed in Cousland armor, “Go! Man the gate! Keep those bastards out as long as you can!”

The knight sagged with relief when he spotted Aedan, Eleanor, and Solona, “Your Ladyship! My Lord! You’re both alive, and Lady Amell too. I was certain Howe’s men had gotten through!”

“They did get through,” Aedan growled.

Eleanor forced back a sob, “They killed Oriana, and Oren…I can’t believe – Are you injured?”

“Don’t worry about me, your Ladyship. Thank the maker you three are unharmed.”

“Here,” Solona touched the wound on Ser Gilmore’s arm, “That should help. Are there others?”

He nodded, and the mage hurried off to check the other men. Ser Gilmore continued, When I realized what was happening, it was all I could do to shut the gates. But they won’t keen Howe’s men out long! If you’ve another way out of the castle, use it quickly!”

“We need to find Father!” Aedan insisted.

“When I last saw they teyrn, he’d been badly wounded. I urged him not to go, but he was determined to find you. He went towards the kitchen. I believe he thought to find you at the servants’ exit in the larder.”

“Bless you, Ser Gilmore. Maker watch over you,” Eleanor cried as she started toward the kitchen.

“Maker watch over us all,” the knight sighed.

Solona reappeared at his side, “Your soldiers are healed as best I can manage, Ser Gilmore. Be safe.”

“In another life, I would be honored to serve beside you as a Grey Warden, Lady Amell,” he took her hand and kissed it, “Maker watch over you.”

“And you, Ser Gilmore.”

Aedan grabbed the mage’s arm, following his mother through the halls, “My father is injured. We have to go.”

“What about Duncan?” she asked as he dragged her along.

“If we haven’t seen him by now, he’s on his own.”

“But we have to get to Ostagar! The Wardens!”

“You won’t live to become a Warden if you don’t hurry.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach the kitchens. Aedan dropped Solona’s arm when the door flung open to reveal the slain bodies of Nan and the other kitchen staff. The larder door was closed, but the adrenaline propelled him forward. His father had to be there. He had to be safe.

He threw the door open, almost overlooking his father, who was on the floor, holding a wound as blood poured out on the stone around him.

“There…you both are,” Bryce gasped, “I was…wondering when you would get here.”

“Bryce!” Eleanor screamed, and raced to her husband’s side. Aedan knelt with them, trying to examine the wound. He was no healer, but he knew a little about wounds, and it didn’t look good.

“Maker’s blood, what’s happening?” Eleanor demanded, ignoring the blood staining her armor, “You’re bleeding!”

“Howe’s men…found me first. Almost…did me in right there,” he panted.”

Anger boiled in Aedan’s gut, “How did you get in here? You can hardly move!”

“Duncan…found me. Brought me here.”

“And left you lying in your own blood?” Eleanor demanded, tears streaming down her face, “We must get you out of here!”

“I…I won’t survive the standing, I think,” the teyrn’s voice was fading, and his breathing grew more labored with every passing moment.”

Aedan blinked back tears, “Then…then we’ll have to drag you out.”

His father chuckled, “Only…if you’re willing to leave pieces of me behind, pup.”

“Bryce! This is no time for jokes,” Eleanor scolded. Her hands were caked in blood as she tried to stop the bleeding, praying to the Maker to save her husband, “Once Howe’s men break through the gate, they will find us! We must go!”

“Someone…must reach Fergus…tell him what has happened.”

“You can tell him yourself, Father.”

“I…wish I could,” Bryce groaned.

“Bryce, no!” Eleanor cried, “The servant’s passage is right here! We can flee together, find you healing magic!”

“You won’t die here,” Aedan croaked, ignoring the tears now racing down his cheeks, “We’ll… we’ll drag you out. Get you to a healer.”

“I’m afraid the teyrn is-,” Duncan started to cut in, but Aedan ignored him.

“Solona!” he shouted, suddenly remembering there was a mage in the castle. He tore open the door to find the mage tending to the bodies of the slain servants in the kitchen. The sight paralyzed him. The idea that someone could be so calm and so selfless in this brutal chaos was incredible.

It took her a few heartbeats to notice him watching her, “Lord Aedan? Are you injured?”

He stared at his bloody leathers, “No, my father…”

She was at the teyrn’s side in an instant. The color drained from Solona’s face when she saw the wound, but she didn’t hesitate, “Aedan, bring me some ale or wine. Something. And wood or something for him to bite down on. It won’t be pleasant.”

“Will he live?”

“He has a better chance if you stop asking and do what I say,” she snapped as she pressed down on the wound.

Once he was out of sight, Solona turned to Duncan, “Shut the door.”

He obliged without comment. Solona turned her attention to the teyrn and his wife, “You have a choice to make, but you don’t have a lot of time. I don’t have enough mana to heal a wound like this without help. However, my help is not a sort all are willing to accept.”

“Y-you mean… blood magic?” the teyrna asked tearfully.

“No,” Solona answered firmly, “Never blood magic. My help comes from  _ friendly _ spirits of the Fade. Not demons. Spirits.”

Bryce Cousland watched her carefully, “Are you an… abomination?”

“Again, no. The spirits never possess me, nor will they possess you. I swear it. They simply lend me some of their magic.”

“But, why?” Eleanor asked, “What could they want from us?”

“Each spirit has a trait they embody. It defines their whole being,” she explained, “This spirit… his name is Compassion. He would help because the suffering of others hurts him. He would want nothing else in return. I swear.”

The teyrna didn’t hesitate, “Do it.”

Solona turned to Bryce, “My lord? I won’t do this without your consent, but you need to hurry. My magic is only enough to slow your death, not stop it completely. The longer you wait, the harder it will be.”

Bryce looked to his wife, then to the door, past which Aedan could be heard rummaging for supplies in the kitchen. With a deep sigh, he answered, “Do it.”

“Duncan, I need you to hold me up. I have to enter the Fade, and if I move, the wound will get worse,” she ordered.

Without waiting for an answer, Solona closed her eyes, abandoning reality for the Fade. It seemed that she would not have to search for Compassion, however. As soon as she arrived in the Fade, Solona met him in the form of a little boy of about ten, with dark, wild locks, and big, brown eyes. He smiled happily at the mage.

“Hello, dear,” she stroked his hair as he crawled into her lap. He usually appeared to her in this form, creating a sense of protectiveness in her. Solona had never known her family. Compassion had seen that in her heart, and always appeared to her as a younger child, usually a boy, with similar features. When she saw him, it made her feel like she had a sibling. Sure, there had been younger children in the Tower, but she had never been very good with them.

“You need help.”

“Yes, I do,” Compassion, like many spirits, generally chose to speak in riddles, but time was not on their side.

“Asha’bellanar says I should not help. It would change things.”

She didn’t know who Asha’bellanar was, but said, “I won’t force you, dear.”

“But there was only supposed to be one,” he argued, “Not five. But  _ she  _ changed it. Will it hurt to change again?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiled – a melting, heart-warming smile, “I want to help.”

Solona didn’t hesitate. Her eyes snapped open. The first thing she noticed was that Duncan had managed to keep her on the wound. The second was that the Couslands didn’t seem to know how to react to the sight of Compassion appearing in their larder.

“Hello,” he told them kindly, “I don’t want to scare you. Just help.”

“Come here,” Solona told him, “I need you to push magic through me so I can heal him. Can you do that?”

He placed his hands over hers in response.

Solona kept her eyes on the wound, singing a spell of healing that Wynne had once taught her to make sure everything healed properly as they worked. Compassion vanished as she was finishing the healing, but Solona wasn’t worried. He would always show up if she needed him again. Duncan didn’t seem affected by the spirit’s presence. The Couslands, however, didn’t relax until he was gone.

When the last bit of skin had stitched itself back together, Solona collapsed on the bloody floor, too weak to move. She struggled to look at Aedan as he burst into the room, Templar still at his heels, “I couldn’t find wine or ale. Is vinegar okay?”

“I’m fine, pup,” Bryce assured him as he ran a hand along his abdomen where the wound had just been, “She’s already patched me up.”

“W-what?”

“Your mother insisted she not wait, and the wound wasn’t so bad. I’ll be fine.”

Aedan wrapped Solona in a bear hug, “Thank you. I owe you everything. Thank you. Thank you so much. Whatever you want, name it.”

“Please…” she croaked, swaying on her feet.

“Lord Cousland,” Duncan interrupted, “Lady Amell needs her rest. She’s had quite the ordeal, and we still need to get out of the castle.”

“I’ll carry her,” he offered, scooping a barely conscious Solona into his arms.

Duncan looked to the teyrn, “Can you make it on your own, ser?”

“I’ll help him,” Eleanor knelt down to help her husband stand, “We need to bar the door and our exit. We don’t want them following us.”

“I will handle that. Are we ready?”

“Where are we going?” Aedan asked.

“We have some companions at a nearby inn,” Duncan said as he heaved sacks of flour in front of the door, “I can give you mounts to get you to safety.”

“What about you?” Bryce asked weakly.

“We head for Denerim, then Redcliffe, and then Ostagar. Arl Howe’s men will not be after us, and I have work to finish before we join the king in Ostagar.”

The shouting in the castle grew louder as the guards closed in on them. They tore open the trapdoor, and the five of them, plus Aedan’s mabari, made their way down the steps and into the tunnel. Duncan struggled to move a boulder to block the door eventually managing it with Templar’s help. They stumbled through the darkness, occasionally tripping over loose rocks as they went. It was difficult for Aedan to navigate with Solona’s bulk as well, but he refused to leave her behind.

After nearly an hour in the musty, dark tunnel, they reached another trap door. This one led to a warehouse outfitted with a few sets of armor, full pack, and a variety of weapons.

Aedan set Solona down on one of the cots. The Couslands all changed clothes, dressing themselves for protection and speed in studded leathers. There was nowhere to wash up, the safe house wasn’t built for that, but they were able to clean most of the blood off with some cloths.

They offered Duncan any armor or weapons he wanted, even some of the riches they had stored there. He refused. Solona was still barely conscious on the cot, but Eleanor Cousland was able to get rid of the torn, bloodstained robes, and dressed her in black leathers. Under normal circumstances, Solona might have protested at showing so much skin. It was little more than fitted leather pants, and a matching bodice that covered her chest and some of her shoulders, but little else. Now, however, she was too tired to protest, and it was the only thing they found that would fit.

While Eleanor helped her dress, the men focused on covering the trap door and gathering as many supplies as they could manage. Templar was happy to sit quietly by the door to guard from intruders. There was no telling if Rendon Howe knew where the tunnel let out or what was waiting for them if he did.

Aedan snuck a look into the street, “Looks clear.”

“We should still be ready,” Duncan warned.

“Templar, check it out,” Aedan ordered, cracking the door open to let him explore.

He followed close behind the mabari, sword drawn and shield at the ready. When Templar reached the end of the alley, he barked. It was clear. Aedan waved to the rest of them to follow, still watching the shadows for any traps. Eleanor and Bryce Cousland helped support Solona through the city streets while Duncan trailed behind.

It took several minutes for them to reach the inn, but they arrived without incident. The group stopped outside the stables so Duncan could untether the horses. They would have to sell Duran’s pony or keep it as a pack horse, but the other three horses would get them to safety.

“Duncan,” Teyrn Cousland said quietly, “I would offer you something as repayment for my life, and the lives of my wife and son.”

“I am glad to assist, but I claim no credit for saving your life.”

“Nonsense. Without you, I never would have even made it to the larder. It is a debt that must be repaid. We would like to offer our son to the service of the Grey Wardens, a thanks for our lives, and our hope that we may stop this Blight before it spreads.”

Duncan turned to Aedan, “And you agreed to this?”

“I volunteered.”

“Then you are welcome to join us.”

“And Templar?”

Duncan chuckled, “I have never heard of a mabari becoming a Grey Warden, but I would welcome him to our ranks.”

Aedan nodded gratefully, then turned to his parents. He embraced them each, muttering things only the three of them could hears. They made promises to reclaim Highever. Aedan swore to speak to the king as soon as he could manage. With promises to be safe from all parties, they parted. With one last backwards glance at their son, Bryce and Eleanor Cousland mounted the two horses, and tore through the city in the hopes of finding safety.

Duncan turned to Aedan and Solona, “Let us go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know. It isn't canon to leave them alive, but I could not just let him die when I have a character there known to be a great healer. Hope you're liking the story so far!


	11. A Wedding and A Monster

"Wake up, Cousin! Why are you still in bed? It's your big day!"

Kallian, Kalli to most, groaned as she rolled over in her old, straw bed, "Just a little longer..."

"Come on!" Shianni said cheerily, "Don't make me use cold water again. You do remember what today is, don't you?"

"Summerday?" Kalli groaned, pushing her blonde hair out of her face as she sat up.

"No, you idiot. You're getting married today! And Soris too!" Shianni plopped down on the bed, reeking of booze as she normally did, "That's what I came to tell you! Your groom, Nelaros... he's here early!"

Kalli sighed, "I still don't like the idea of this arranged match business."

"And who else are you going to marry?" Shianni asked sharply, "Besides, I already snuck a peek-- he's handsome! There's going to be music, decorations, feasting... weddings are so much fun! You're so lucky!"

"And how does Soris feel?" Kalli asked groggily, referring to Shianni's brother.

"I think he's just glad he's not alone. He's sweating so much, he looks like a human," she joked, "All right. I'll stop tormenting you. I should go talk to the other bridesmaids, and find my dress. Oh, and Soris said that he'll be waiting for you outside. So move it!" Kalli watched as Shianni nearly skipped out of the small apartment, more likely to be searching for more to drink rather than the other bridesmaids or her dress. 

Turning to the chest by her bed, Kalli pulled out the white dress that she had made for the occasion. They had never had much, but Kalli had been saving extra money since she had turned sixteen to make a wedding dress and have money set aside for when she started a life of her own. True, she had not intended the beautiful silk and lace dress to be used for an arranged marriage, and her money used to start a life doing what she had always done, but this was her lot in life.

The only choices for elves were to live in alienages, join the Dalish, provided one was lucky enough to find them, or to find a position working nobles in Orlais. Kalli had once heard rumors that some of the elves in Orlais were treated so well that they even had their own servants. They could still not hold their own titles, and were seen by most as beneath humans, but it was better than the alienage, barely getting by.

So, Kalli's father arranged a marriage for her in the hopes of giving her a decent life within the alienage. It was not the life she wanted, but it was the best her father could offer for her, so she appreciated the act. She loved her father more than anything in the world, and she would do anything to make him happy. Even if that meant an arranged marriage.

Kalli draped the dress and matching shoes across the bed, determined to wait until the last minute to put it on. Just in case. Instead, she put on her best clothes to meet her future groom. It would be good to make a good first impression.

When she was ready, Kalli approached her dad in the living area of their shared apartment. He turned with a somewhat sad smile, "Ah, my little girl. It's... the last day I'll be able to call you that. Oh, I wish your mother could have been here to see this."

"Me too, Father," she kissed his cheek, "Well, what should I be doing?"

"You need to find Soris. The sooner this wedding starts, the less chance you two have to escape," he teased.

"A small chance is still a chance," she joked back.

He laughed, a rare sound, "Still have your mother's smart mouth, I see. Oh, and one last thing before you go, my dear. Your martial training... the swordplay, knives, and whatever else your mother trained you in. Best not to mention it to your betrothed."

"I take it you didn't say anything?"

"Well, it's not exactly something that would have made it easy to find a match for you," Cyrion admitted, "We don't want to seem like troublemakers. Adaia made that mistake."

"Mother was a matchless duelist," Kalli said fiercely.

Cyrion sighed, "Yes. That she was. Here. Take this. Your mother would like you to have it. It's the very least I can give you as you start your new life. Go on, then. I still have some things to do, and Soris is, no doubt, waiting for you."

Kalli accepted the soft leather boots, slipping off her old, worn pair for her mother's barely worn set, "Thank you, Father. I love you."

"I love you. Now go, child."

With another kiss on her dad's cheek, she slipped out of the apartment and into the morning light. As usual, her first stop was the tree in the center of the alienage. Ever since she was a little girl, Kalli had been fascinated by the ancient tree. When she had paid her respects to the tree, Kalli greeted the others in the alienage, stopping at an older couple that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Well," the woman said kindly, "it's the lucky bride herself. Hello, dear."

Her husband put an arm around his wife's waist, "Now, love. She probably doesn't remember us."

"Oh, of course. I'm Dilwyn, and this is Gethon. We were friends of your mother's. We haven't seen much of you since she... well..." Dilwyn's voice trailed off.

"You knew my mother? Can you tell me about her?" Kalli asked eagerly, desperate for any information on the mother she had barely known.

Gethon sighed, "Your father still doesn't speak of her, does he?"

"Adaia was beautiful and full of life. And a bit wild," Dilwyn admitted.

"She wanted you more than anything," her husband said quickly, "It's sad she never got to see you all grown up."

"We just wanted to see you today and express out good wishes."

"Any friend of my mother's is a friend of mine," Kalli kissed them each on the cheek.

"It means the world to us to see you happy," Dilwyn said earnestly.

Gethon removed his hand from his wife's waist to reach for something, "We've saved a bit of money for this day. We'd... we'd like you to have it to help start your new life."

Kalli knew how much even a little extra money meant to those living in the alienage, especially since Dilwyn and Gethon would have had to travel from whatever alienage they were from. She wanted to refuse, to tell them it was too much, but she how could she refuse the gift? It would only cause them pain. Instead she said, "I'm honored. Thank you."

"Maker bless you," Gethon pressed the small purse into Kalli's hand, and with another embrace for each of them, Kalli left them to continue her greetings. 

It was not long after that she encountered her friend Nessa and Nessa's parents loading up a cart. As Kalli approached, Nessa's father called out, "Many blessings, young one. We hoped to stay for the celebration, but we must be off."

"What happened?"

"The human who owns our building has decided to sell it for storage space. We can't afford to live anywhere else here, so we're leaving Denerim."

Kalli swore internally. It was the prerogative of landlords to raise rent, or decide to no longer rent out the apartments, but they always did it without any notice, expecting the residents to be out within the day, even if they had paid through the month. More often than not, landlords chose to evict their residents just after they paid their rent for the month for extra funds.

"Where are you going?" Kalli asked.

"The Ostagar ruins," Nessa said with a shudder, "The army camp there is calling for laborers."

"We wanted to look for work in Highever..." her mother began.

"But that's just not possible," Nessa's father finished.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You're very generous, but... we don't need charity to solve our problems."

Kalli nodded, "I understand. Good luck to you."

Nessa's father nodded, "Many thanks. Again, blessings on your day."

Just as Kalli had turned the corner to continue her search for Soris, Nessa caught up to her, "Wait... can I talk to you a moment?"

"Of course."

Nessa began wringing her hands, "I apologize for my parents. They're too proud to accept help, much less ask for it. My parents will labor in the army camp, and they'll expect me to do the same, but... I don't like the idea of being surrounded by human soldiers who haven't seen a woman in months."

"Maybe you should stay here," Kalli suggested.

"I would, but my father would have to believe I have a future here..."

"Then would some money help?"

Nessa gave a wry laugh, "Of course, but I can't imagine anyone here has much to spare. We'd need another three silvers to make it to Highever. And is we got another ten silvers, we could rent a house here. Maybe one large enough to start a business. But... that's just dream talk. Nobody has that much money, and, if they did, why would they give it to us?"

Kalli reached into the pouch Gethon and Dilwyn had given her, "Here's ten silvers. Take it. Stay here where you belong."

"Where did you get this much money?" Nessa's green eyes widened, "Never mind, I'm sure not talking you out of this. Thank you! Thank you so much! You saved me and my family—I love you! Now I just have to handle the parents..."

Kalli smiled as she watched Nessa scurry off. Ten silvers. It was a lot of money by their standards, but it was worth it to keep Nessa safe from the soldiers. Besides, if they were able to bring a business to the area, it would benefit everyone.

Finally, Kalli made her way to where Solis had propped himself up on a post, already wearing his wedding outfit. He grinned as he saw her approach, "Well, if it isn't my lucky cousin. Care to celebrate the end of our independence together?"

She groaned, "Is running away still an option?"

"Are you insane? Where would you go? Into the woods to live with the Dalish elves?"

"I'm just not thrilled at the idea of being married," she muttered.

"You're not thrilled? Apparently, your groom is a dream come true. My bride sounds like a dying mouse."

"Maybe you'll get a cage for a wedding present," Kalli joked dryly.

"You're terrible, you know that?" he laughed, "Come on. Let's go introduce you to your dreamy betrothed before you say 'I do'."

Soris led the way, but they still stopped a few more times to give out a few coins to some of the elves who had been crippled doing work, or who were struggling. Soris sighed every time Kalli gave away money, but never said anything about it. By the time they had reached the center of the alienage again, the bridesmaids had already changed and assembled, and several humans in fine clothing were approaching the women from behind. They moved slightly sluggishly making Kalli think that they had been drinking. Never a good sign.

Kalli glanced toward Soris. She knew he had seen the men by the lack of color in his face, but he wouldn't be much help. Shianni waved Kalli and Soris over enthusiastically. Seconds later, a blond man with a harsh face grabbed Nola roughly.

"Let go of me! Stop! Please!" she shrieked, running toward Kalli.

The human laughed, "It's a party, isn't it? Grab a whore and have a good time. Savor the hunt, boys. Take this little elven wench, here... so young and vulnerable..."

"Touch me and I'll guy you, you pig!" Shianni shouted. Of course. Shianni never knew when to keep her mouth shut even when it put all of them at risk.

"Please, my lord! We're celebrating weddings, here!" one of the elven men said calmly.

"Silence, worm!" the lord backhanded him.

Soris turned to Kalli, "I know what you're thinking, but maybe we shouldn't get involved..."

"Shianni will get herself, and all of us killed!" she hissed.

"Fine. But let's try to be diplomatic, shall we?"

The lord suddenly took notice of Kalli, stalking over to examine her more clocely, "What's this? Another lovely one come to keep me company?"

"Dream on, human. I'm here to tell you that you need to leave," she stepped closer, trying to make herself look as intimidating as possible. The lord took an involuntary step back.

One of the other humans scoffed, "Ha! You hear that, Vaughn?"

The man called Vaughn laughed, "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Kalli didn't get a chance to answer because Vaughn crumpled to the ground. Shianni had snuck up behind the man, and struck him over the head with a ceramic pitcher. 

She looked smug for a moment, until the third human ran up to the unconscious Vaughn, "Are you insane?! This is Vaughn Urien, the arl of Denerim's son!"

"W-what? Oh, Maker..." Shianni grabbed onto Soris for support.

"Maybe his father should have taught him better manners," Kalli retorted.

"You've a lot of nerve, knife-ears. This'll go badly for you," the other man snarled.

"Oh, I really messed up this time," Shianni whimpered as the two humans carried the unconscious lord out of the alienage.

"It'll be all right," Soris said confidently, "He won't tell anyone an elven woman took him down."

Shianni did not seem convinced, "I hope so. I should go get cleaned up."

"Is everybody else all right?" Soris turned to the others.

"I think we're just shaken," answered an elven Kalli had never seen before, followed by an unfamiliar elven man, "What was that about?"

Soris laughed nervously, "Looks like the arl's son started drinking too early. Um, let's not let this ruin the day. Uh, this is Valora, my betrothed."

"Then this handsome man must be Nelaros," Kalli answered with a smile. He was certainly good-looking by normal standards, if not to Kalli's taste. However, if they were going to be married, she was certainly going to try to make the best of it.

"I am a lucky man to be so warmly welcomed," he said slowly.

Kalli cringed, hoping he was nervous. It was always said that it was those little things grating on the nerves that could ruin a marriage. Could she live her entire life with a man who dragged out every word?

Soris interrupted her thoughts, "I'm... sure the two of you have a lot to discuss."

He pulled Valora to the side, offering a modicum of privacy to Kalli and Nelaros. Nelaros cleared his throat, "Well, here we are... Are you nervous?"

Thank the Maker. He didn't always drag out his words, "Not really. Are you?"

"I thought I'd stay calm, but finally seeing you has made me... Well, let's just say I'm not calm."

Kalli smiled genuinely. It was a good start, "How was the trip from Highever?"

"Uneventful, thankfully. The trade caravan we accompanied had little of value; I think that kept the bandits away."

Soris stepped over and nudged Kalli in the ribs, "Come on, Cousin. We should let them get ready."

"We'll see you two in a bit," called Valora happily, "Don't disappear on us."

"Or we'll come find you," Nelaros teased, a twinkle in his pale eyes.

The pair wandered off to finish preparations, and Soris groaned, "Don't look now, but we have another problem."

Kalli glanced around, "Is it Vaughn? Has he returned?"

Soris shrugged, "Some other humans just walked in. Could be some of Vaughn's or just random troublemakers. Either way, we need to move them along before someone does something stupid."

"Right. Let's go talk to him."

"Let's do this quickly. You still need to change."

Kalli examined the three humans as they approached. There was a man and two women. The man seemed to be the oldest and the leader, and the women both seemed to be a few years younger than Kalli. The women also wore odd clothing. One wore something that Kalli wasn't sure could be called a dress, but was cut almost to her navel in the front with slits to her hips on either side, and brushed the top of her knees. Not to mention the boots that laced up to her thighs!

The other woman, or girl really, was dressed much more modestly in a long robe of deep red and trimmed with gold, simple and elegant. It looked like robes like those Kalli had once seen a mage wearing, but it wasn't possible that the girl was a mage. She carried no staff, and mages stayed in the Circle towers. What would one be doing in an alienage with a strange man and a woman who was dressed like a prostitute?

"Good day," the man bowed as Kalli and Soris approached, "I understand congratulations are in order for your impending wedding."

"Thank you, but please go. I'd rather avoid any unpleasantness."

"What manner of unpleasantness might you be referring to?" he asked jovially.

"The Alienage just isn't a good place for humans, especially apostates," she nodded to the girl, "to be."

"I'm sorry, but I have no intention of leaving."

"Fine. Maybe we can compromise."

The stranger chuckled, "She keeps her composure, even when facing down an unknown and armed human. A true gift, wouldn't you say, Valendrian?"

Valendrian appeared at the man's side, "I would say the world has far more use of those who know how to stay their blades. It is good to see you again, my old friend. It has been far too long."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea..."

The man shook his head, "I was hardly forthcoming, and for that, I apologize."

"May I present Duncan, head of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden," Valendrian said with a slight bow, "Though I have not met his companions. New Wardens, Duncan?"

"No, no. Not yet. Mage Solona Amell," he motioned to the girl in the red robes, "Will be joining the order, but Mage Victoria Trevelyan has joined us as an official ambassador of the Circle. I have two more recruits, but they are doing some trading in the city."

"Well met, Duncan, Victoria, Solona," Kalli bowed to each of them in turn.

"My question remains, Duncan," Valendrian pressed, "Why are you here, Duncan?"

Duncan sighed, "The worst has happened: a Blight has begun. King Cailan summons the Grey Wardens to Ostagar to fight the darkspawn horde alongside his armies."

"Yes," Valendrian said carefully, "I had heard the news. Still, this is an awkward time. There is to be a wedding-- two, in fact."

"So I see. By all means, attend to your ceremonies. My concerns can wait, for now. Solona, Tori, see if there is something you can do to assit."

"And for the Maker's sake, Kallian," Valendrian growled, "Get dressed! It's almost time for the ceremony to start."

"Can we do anything?" the blonde girl Duncan had called Tori hurried to catch up with Kalli.

"Oh, uh, no. I just have to get into my dress."

"Need any help?"

Kalli almost refused, then thought of the tiny buttons at the back of the dress and on the sleeves, "Actually, some help might be nice."

Tori glanced around at the apartment, "So, you live here? All by yourself?"

"With my father," Kalli said defensively.

The mage sighed, "Must be nice to have all this space to yourself."

Her tone surprised the elf, "Are you being sarcastic?"

"No. In the tower, each apprentice had a chest of belongings and a large room full of bunk beds and a shared bathing and toilet area. Even when we became mages, we had enough space for a bed, a wardrobe, and maybe a desk, mostly closed off, but shared with four or five other mages. To live like this? With walls? And doors? And privacy?" Tori ran her hand on the worn table.

"It's a slum,” Kalli spat, "Surely you never worried about having enough coal to keep you warm in the winter, or what would happen for food when the money ran low. Or whether your human landlord would decide to turn you out into the streets without any notice."

To Tori's credit, she did not balk, "No, but you've never had to worry about being targeted by demons every time you close your eyes, or constantly live in fear that someone might falsely accuse you of something and you'll be made tranquil-a living shell with no feelings and no magic- and you don't have to worry about Templars trying to force themselves on you just because they can. If they refuse, they accuse you of blood magic, and that means death or tranquility. That doesn't include the fear of knowing that all of your friends are going to face a test that could turn them into abominations and kill them. But, no, we've never worried about starving or money."

Kalli stared, "I guess you have it about as bad as we do."

"At least you have a place of your own, and you can marry."

"Mages can't marry?" she asked in disbelief.

"Technically, they can, but they need special permission, and they can't marry other mages because that definitely means having more mage children. It runs in blood lines. The more mages in a family, the more likely it is to have a mage child. And then you're marrying someone you have to get special permission to live with or see on a regular basis. Some mages are allowed special permission to live outside the Circle, but it depends on the Circle itself and they have to live within a mile or two of a templar at all times."

"Well, at least you aren't being married off to someone you've never met for the sake of security- a loose term if I've ever heard it."

Tori helped Kalli out of her dress, "An arranged marriage? Why? I don't mean to offend. I mean, I see the point for nobles. Not so much for everyone else."

"Nelaros is a skilled crafstman. He is regarded highly by the teyrn in Highever, and has a good home and business there. That's how it is for us. We marry our children to successful people in an effort to give them a better life."

"And in return, you are a beautiful bride bearing him hard-working children?" Tori prompted.

Kalli laughed, "Something like that. Now, I can get everything else, but it's these cursed buttons."

Tori squealed when she saw the gown, "Is this yours?"

"Oh, yes. It isn't much, but..."

"I love it. Oh, it sounds silly, but being basically banned from being married always made me want to have a fancy wedding."

"Quite the rebel I see."

"I could really rebel and say I've always dreamed of marrying a templar."

"Didn't any of the mages have relationships with the templars?"

Tori helped slip the gown over Kalli's head, and began buttoning buttons, "They did, but all relationships had to be secret, and they rotated templars every few years to keep us from becoming too attached."

"I guess it makes sense."

They continued in silence. Tori finished all the buttons on the back and sleeves with practiced ease, then insisted on helping Kalli with her hair. It took only a few moments, but Tori managed to tame Kalli's locks into an elegant updo. Kalli stared at herself in the foggy mirror. However she felt about this wedding, she would at least be stunning for it.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Now, come on. Let's get you married. Unless, of course, you want me to make this whole wedding go away."

Kalli laughed, pushing the idea out of her mind, “Tempting, but no, let's get on with it."

Tori offered her arm. Kalli steered them toward the dais that had been decorated for the occasion. The dais was where all weddings and important ceremonies took place. After the ceremony, they would bring out tables full of food and wine, and the dais would be used for dancing. Kalli could already see the instruments that had been stashed nearby. Though they were poor, they took every opportunity available to come together and celebrate, giving them a real sense of community.

It seemed shameful to Kalli that she would wish to leave all of this, but she was her mother's daughter. A fighter. Not meant to be confined to manual labor and avoiding the groping hands of humans all her life. But she would make the best of it. She always had.

When they reached the dais where Valendrian, Soris, Valora, Nelaros, and the revered mother were already waiting, Kalli squeezed Tori's arm and continued on her own. Tori retreated into the crowd where Duncan and the other mage were waiting.

"And there's Nelaros's blushing bride," Soris joked.

"You look radiant," Nelaros beamed.

Kalli took her place at his side, as Soris said, "Looks like everyone's ready."

"I wish you all happiness, Soris," Kalli said fondly.

"You too, Cousin. Maybe it won't be so bad after all."

Valendrian turned to the guests who had assembled, "Friends and family, today we celebrate not only this joining, but also our bonds of kin and kind. We are a free people, but that was not always so. Andraste, the Maker's prophet, freed us from the bonds of slavery. As our community grows, remember that our strength lies in commitment to tradition and to each other."

With that, the Revered Mother stepped forward, "Thank you, Valendrian. Now, let us begin. In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I --"

She stopped when Soris pointed behind her. Vaughn and his friends from earlier had returned with a contingent of guards. 

The Revered Mother spluttered, "Milord? This is... an unexpected surprise."

The sound of Vaughn's fake politeness grates on Kalli, "Sorry to interrupt, Mother, but I'm having a party, and we're dreadfully short of female guests."

He laughed as he made his way onto the podium, but the Revered Mother seemed to compose herself, "Milord, this is a wedding!"

"Ha! If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that's your business. But don't pretend this is a proper wedding," Vaughn scoffed as he shoved Valora out of the way, "Now, we're here for a good time, aren't we boys?"

One of the other noblemen chuckled, "Just a good time with the ladies, that's all."

Vaughn examined the women, then pointed at Nola and Maia, "Let's take those two, the one in the tight dress," he motioned to Valora, "and... where's the bitch that bottled me?"

"Over here, Lord Vaughn!" one of the men called from next to Shianni.

Shianni struggled against his grip, "Let me go, you stuffed-shirt son of a--."

Vaughn laughed over the rest of her words, "Oh, I'll enjoy taming her. And see the pretty bride..."

"Don't worry," Nelaros told Kalli shakily, "I won't let them take you!"

"I won't let them take Shianni!" she insisted.

"Ah, yes," Vaughn's eyes raked over her dress as though he could see right through it, "Such a well-formed little thing."

"You villains!" Nelaros shouted.

Vaughn chucked again, a truly humorless sound, "That's quite enough. I'm sure we want to avoid further... um, unpleasantness."

"Take me, but let the others go," Kalli offered quickly. It wasn't likely to work, but she had to try.

"Now, that wouldn't be much of a party now, would it?" he stepped back to examine her again, "Oh, we're going to have some fun."

The last thing Kalli remembered was one of Vaughn's friends backhanding her. Then the world went black, and she knew no more.


	12. The Price of Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tori, Solona, and Duncan are caught up in the pandemonium of the alienage following the abduction of several women, including Kallian. Meanwhile, Kalli wakes up in the arl's castle, trapped and unarmed. Will she and her fellow captives be able to make it out before the arl's son can get his hands on them?

To say the alienage was pandemonium after the women were grabbed was an understatement. Elves everywhere jumped in to save them, but they were immediately rebuffed by the guards, who helped their masters cart the women off to the arl's estate. Tori had immediately tried to jump in to help, but Duncan held her back, reminding her that, if she did, she would be acting as representative of the Circle and the arl could choose to declare war against the Circle of Magi.

"Then why can't you help?" she insisted, enraged as she watched the women being carted off.

"I am a Grey Warden. We have oaths that force all races and countries to aid us in the event of a Blight, but they also bind us. We do not participate in the politics of the rest of the world. We are set apart, and we cannot interfere unless we are doing it to conscript."

"Can't you conscript him then?" she suggested frantically.

"Would you really want that man fighting alongside Miss Amell? Or any of the elven Wardens? We have many, you know."

Tori shook her head, "I'd rather just kill him and do all of Thedas a favor."

Duncan chuckled, "I have felt that way many a time, and several times about that man in particular, but it is not our place. I am sorry."

"Is there anything we can do?" Solona asked softly, her eyes glued to the man Duncan had introduced as Cyrion Tabris, Kalli's father. He was still as a statue, eyes glued at the gate where his daughter had last been seen, carried away to an unknown fate.

Duncan was quiet for a few minutes, but the girls did not interrupt him. They were desperate to help, even if it meant waiting for an answer. Finally, Duncan nodded, "We are not able to interfere, but there may still be a way we can help. Come. Let us see what they are saying."

They followed him to where Valendrian was, already surrounded by both grooms and a mob of other elves, "Please, all of you, listen. I know you are upset, and with good reason... but there is nothing we can do right now."

"He's right," one of the women agreed, "Running after them will just make matters worse."

"So we do nothing?!" one of the men cried, "They took my sister!"

"Do we know where he took them?" Tori inquired.

Valendrian answered her, "They were taken to the arl's palace, I suspect. Normally, I'd counsel patience. Unfortunately, stories about the arl's son and his appetites are... most disturbing."

"What kind of stories?"

"Last year, the blacksmith's daughter worked as a chambermaid at the arl's palace," the next words seemed to stick in the elder's throat, "Local children found her washed up under the dock. She'd been... well... Vaughn had his way with her."

Solona gagged as one of the women said, "The servants all said that Vaughn had his men bring her to his chambers."

"When he was done with the girl," the man beside her continued, "She was killed and disposed of. The garrison said she died later, but we all knew better."

Valendrian spoke again, "Vaughn has never been so bold, but with Arl Urien away, who knows what he thinks he can get away with?"

"We can't just leave them with that monster!" Tori exclaimed.

"I'm with you on that," the redheaded groom added.

"Please, the focus must be on saving these poor women, not on revenge," Valendrian insisted.

The man who said one of the women was his sister spoke again, "But what can we do?

We're talking about the arl's palalce. Even with the arl and his knights gone, it'll be guarded."

"And our best fighter is currently locked in there without a weapon," the elder muttered.

"Elder," one of the elves said softly, "May I offer a suggestion? I work inside the palace. I could sneak one, perhaps two others in through the servant's entrance. Nobody will notice an extra pair of elves around."

"I'm not much of a fighter, but I'll go," Soris offered, "And I can bring an extra set of weapons for Kalli. If we can get to her, I'm sure we can get out."

"I'll go too" Nelaros added.

"For that, you will need weapons," Duncan said, "Allow me to offer my own longsword, bow, and these daggers. Men should be able to defend their loved ones properly."

Valendrian nodded grimly, "Then your path is set. I pray the Maker looks on it with favor. Remember, get those daggers to Kalli. That must be your first priority. Do you understand?"

The two men belted on the weapons awkwardly. One of the women cried out, "You're all insane! The guards will burn down our homes around us!"

"Enough, Elva," Valendrian ordered, "You've had your say. They shall try, for their own honor, and the honor of the women. We must trust in the Maker."

"I'll make sure the way is clear," the elf who had offered to sneak them in said, "When you're ready, meet me at the Alienage gate."

Solona stepped forward, "I can provide little in the way of protection, but I have a few healing potions."

Soris bowed to her, "Thank you, my lady."

She blushed as she handed over the bottles of potion. The men took another few moments to ready themselves, then hurried off to the gate. Tori watched them, hoping they wouldn't be too late.

  
  


Kalli woke to the sound of Nola muttering a prayer, "Maker keep us, Maker protect us, Maker keep us, Maker protect us..."

"Stop it!" Shianni groaned, "You're driving me insane!"

Kalli took a deep breath before opening her eyes. It took her a moment to sit up, but it seemed she was no worse for the wear. Shianni, Maia, and Valora were all crouched in front of her, watching. Shianni sagged with relief when Kalli sat up, "Oh, thank the Maker you've come to. We were so worried...."

"Is everyone all right?" she asked.

This time, Valora answered, "We're scared, but unharmed. So far. They locked us in here to wait until that... bastard is 'ready for us'."

"Then we need to get out of here."

"Forgive me if I don't hold my breath," Maia retorted, "The door is locked and solid, and we're unarmed!"

The break in conversation brought back the sound of Nola repeating, "Maker keep us, Maker protect us, Maker keep us, Maker protect us..."

"Great! Now this, again," Shianni grumbled.

The women stood, and Maia said shakily, "Look, we'll... do what they want, go home, and try to forget this ever happened!"

"She's right," Valora agreed, "It'll be worse if we resist."

"It'll be worse if we don't!" Shianni argued.

"Someone's coming!"

Kalli raced through their optioned, then said in a low voice, "Stay calm, and do whatever they say. I'll find a way to get us out of here."

No sooner had she finished talking than the door swung open to admit five guards in full armor. The first man spoke to them in a strange accent, "Hello, wenches. We're your escorts to Lord Vaughn's little party."

Nola stood, shouting, "Stay away from us!"

The man cut her down with a single blow, Nola's blood spraying everywhere, staining Kalli's dress and face. The other women screamed and gasped, yet the guards were stoic as ever. Maia knelt down as Nola gasped for breath, blood pooling onto the stone floor. It was only seconds before the life left her eyes.

"You killed her!" Maia cried.

"I suppose that's what happens when you try teaching whores some respect," he grinned, then turned to the men, "Now, you grab the little flower cowering in the corner. Horace and I'll take the homely bride and the drunk. You two, bind the last one. She's the scrapper."

Kalli was still as her friends were carted off. A man with a rather magnificent mustache and another with a rather pinched face approached. "Don't worry," the mustached man said in a deceptively kind tone, "We'll be perfect gentlemen."

"Now, you heard the captain," the pinched faced guard said gruffly, "Be a good little wench, or you'll end up like your friend, there."

She considered her options. They were armed, yes, but she knew they were underestimating her. They both had daggers belted at their waist, a backup weapon. If she could even get to one, she would at least have a chance. Kalli had heard the stories about Vaughn and his appetites. She had to at least try to get out of this alive.

Adopting a submissive, timid air, she whimpered, "Yes. I'll behave, honest."

"That's a good girl," said the mustachioed guard.

"Uh, hello?"

The guards turned, and Kalli could believe neither her ears nor her eyes. There was Soris in the doorway, holding daggers in his hands.

"Oh, look at this," the guard laughed, "A little elfling with a stolen sword."

Soris didn't hesitate as the guards approached him. He crouched down, sliding the daggers across the floor to Kalli, who grabbed them immediately. She grinned as she felt the grips in her hands. She had weapons; Vaughn would regret ever coming into the alienage.

The guards turned to face her, "Oh, sod."

They moved to draw their weapons, but they weren't fast enough. Kalli had already stabbed a knife through the man with the pinched face before he could get his sword and shield out. The guard with the mustache, however, was able to get his sword out, but not his shield. No matter. Kalli forced herself closer to him, pushing aside his blade with one dagger as she buried the other in his throat as well.

When the second body hit the floor, Soris ran to Nola's body, "I... can't believe they killed her! Are you all right? They... didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No, but where'd you get that sword?"

"That Grey Warden, Duncan, gave me and Nelaros his sword and crossbow, but that's all we have."

"Why didn't Duncan come himself?" she asked. It was a nice sentiment that Soris and Nelaros had come, but they needed trained warriors, not elves who had never held a weapon a day in their lives.

"He can't interfere, he said. Something about Grey Wardens being neutral."

"What about that mage? She isn't a Warden."

"Duncan wouldn't let her. She tried, though. Got real riled up about it too."

Kalli sighed. She would have to make do, "Come on. We'll grab more weapons as we go. Maybe some armor too."

"Nelaros is guarding the end of the hall. Let's figure this out with him."

Handing Soris the crossbow and bolts, she led them into the hall. Soris tried to lead them straight to where Nelaros was waiting, but Kalli shook her head. If they didn't deal with any guards as they went, they would have to deal with them all at once, and they would never survive that.

So, they started with the kitchen, where another elf murdered the cook with a frying pan before scurrying off. Their first real test was in the dining hall, where three guards were eating dinner. There was no way to convince them that two elves covered in blood and holding weapons were supposed to be there, so Kalli struck, killing the first man before he had a chance to stand. Soris was frozen, but she supposed it was better than firing off bolts at random. She was able to take down the second guard with little issue as he had been seated next to the first, but the third would be more trouble. He had been seated across from the other two, and killing the first two had given him enough time to stand and draw his weapon.

Kalli waited, watching his movements. Her mother had always taught her that when you had lost the element of the surprise, you needed to outwit your opponent, study them, and wait for an opening. Dueling was an art, and art happened at its own speed. There was no need to wait, however, because Soris loosed a bolt right into the soldier's arm. It was not enough to be fatal, but it was enough to distract the soldier, and give Kalli an opening. Without a moment's hesitation, she leapt across the table, burying her dagger in the man's exposed throat. Just as quickly, she wrenched the blade out, not stopping to watch his blood pool out onto the floor.

Soris paled, but Kalli didn't let him wait. She dragged him through the dining hall into a small room. There wasn't much in there, but Kalli pressed a bottle of wine into Soris's hands, "Drink a little bit of this. It'll make the urge to vomit stop."

Kalli poked around in a few chests, grabbing anything that seemed useful or valuable. Stealing was wrong, but dead men did not need their coins, and it would do those in the alienage a lot of good. When Soris had recovered, and Kalli had finished looting, they made their way down the hall to find Nelaros. They cleared room after room, looting whatever they could, and leaving no guards behind. Servants were spared, often running for the exit as fast as they could manage in spite of assurances that they were fine.

At one point, they reached the armory, and Kalli slipped on a suit of light, leather armor instead of her wedding dress. The armor was soft and flexible, almost like it had been made for her. Soris grabbed some light armor as well, but his was slightly too large, and he moved awkwardly in it. No matter. It would help keep him alive, and that was all that mattered.

After the armory, they continued fighting their way through the castle. Well, Kalli did most of the fighting, and Soris mostly stood cowering nearby, occasionally firing off a few bolts that served more of a distraction to their enemies than anything. At long last, they made it to the end of the hall. Soris stopped, panting.

Kalli didn't wait for Soris to catch his breath, she swung the door open, daggers ready to strike. What she was not ready for was to see a guard cutting down Nelaros. When he saw Kalli and Soris, he shot them a cruel smile, "See? I told you there'd be more. Elves run in packs, like rodents."

"Should we keep the knife-eared bitch alive?" another guard asked.

"They killed our boys," the third man answered, "She dies. Stupid wench. We'll show you how men fight."

Kalli threw one of the smaller daggers she had grabbed along the way, catching one of the men in the eye. He fell back, but the others didn't stop moving toward her. She paused, focusing on pushing down her anger. Anger had no place in fighting. She needed clarity. Peace. She dodged each blow, breathing deeply, calming her mind. They slashed, she ducked. They lunged, she leapt. It was a dance. A dangerous, deadly dance and it lulled Kalli into the familiar lull of fighting. She was ready.

When one of the men swung at her, she dashed forward, knocking his arm out of the way, and digging a dagger into the arm that was swinging his shield up to block her. Kalli brought her knee up into his armored groin, wincing as the metal dug into her knee. As much as it pained her, it was worse for him, and she took advantage of his pain to slit his throat.

The second man was more wary, but also slightly distracted by the bolts Soris was still firing randomly into the room. Maker, where was he getting all of them? She knew he had been looting everyone, and picking up all the bolts he had been shooting, but they seemed endless. Finally, one of Soris's bolts got lucky, and caught the soldier through the helm. The soft iron didn't stand a chance against the barbed steel. The man dropped to the ground with a clang.

Kalli looked at Soris, who was vomiting in a corner.

"Come on," she said softly, "You need to be strong. We have to save the others. Think of Shianni. Of Valora."

The rest of the castle seemed to pass in a blur. Soris did not fire any more bolts, though he still grabbed them as they ran. Kalli did all of the fighting, striking quickly, and using some of the bottles of smoke or traps they had found to give them an advantage. Guard after guard fell; staining Kalli with so many layers of blood she doubted she would ever be clean again. She knew they must have had families that would curse her and mourn them, but she couldn't think of that now. She had to find Shianni and the others and deal with Vaughn. Guilt could wait.

Kalli and Soris had made their way through nearly the entire castle when they opened a door to see Vaughn and his two friends standing over Shianni, who was bruised, bloody, and shaking on the floor. Kalli pushed aside her rage. Focus. She needed to focus.

"My, my," Vaughn said in his obnoxiously smug voice, "What have we here?"

"Don't worry; we'll make short work of these two," said one of the men confidently.

"Quiet, you idiot!" Vaughn demanded, "They're covered with enough blood to fill a tub. What do you think that means?"

"You tell me," Kalli spat.

He seemed to crumble a little, "All right, let's not be too hasty here. Surely we can talk this over..."

"You really think you can talk your way out of this?" she asked in shock. This man was thicker than he looked.

Shianni sobbed, "Please, just... get me out of here! I want to go home!"

"Think for a moment. Kill me, and you ruin more lives than just your own. By dawn the city will run red with elven blood," he threatened with glee, "Think about it. You know how this ends. Or we could talk this through... now that you have my undivided attention."

"We'll tell the city what really happened," even as she said it, Kalli knew it wouldn't work. No one had ever cared about elves. Why should they start now?

Vaughn scoffed, "You think people care about elven whores? You think my father will ignore my death simply because I used some animals as they were meant to be used?"

"I'm not an animal!"

"A poor word choice, perhaps," he waved his manicured hand nonchalantly, "But you understand. You'd risk everything you know on petty revenge? I could pay you and your little friends handsomely for your time, and we can all go on our merry way."

She shrugged, "I've come this far, and I can take your money off of your corpse."

Soris grabbed her arm, "But Cousin, what if he's right? They'll purge the Alienage again! We could take that money... make things better."

"That's blood money!" she shrieked, "Besides, you think they won't already purge it? After what we've already done?"

"If-if you're sure... I'm with you," he managed.

"Bah! I always regret talking to knife-ears!" Vaughn grabbed the sword one of his men offered, "Now, I'll just gut your ignorant carcasses, instead!"

"Soris, don't use the crossbow. Grab a sword and don't get me or Shianni, got it?" Kalli ordered.

She didn't wait to see if he obeyed, but she did note the lack of bolts flying around. Kalli studied her opponents for a few seconds before striking at the man to the far left. He didn't have a weapon, and he was the farthest from one. There was no way for him to get one in time. She shattered a flask of perfume on Vaughn's shield to distract him as she moved, determined not to let the monster best her.

The first man fell quickly, blood pooling from a wound in his chest, but Vaughn didn't pay attention. His focus was on Kalli, murder in his eyes. Soris was battling the other lord, who was, gratefully, almost too drunk to stand. Otherwise, he surely would have killed Soris in an instant.

As it was, Soris was managing to hold his own for the moment. Kalli could barely see him out of the corner of her eye, but suddenly, the lord he was fighting crumpled, allowing Soris to stab him through the chest. Still, Vaughn did not move his attention off of Kalli. They circled each other, both waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Kalli didn't know how much time had passed, but she knew time was running out for her. If she waited too long, more guards would arrive, and they would be overtaken. No, she had to act. But how to throw him off?

Kalli growled. It was low and guttural, and just enough to startle Vaughn. Before he had time to even register her growl, Kalli leapt forward, slashing at Vaughn's shins. He would be protecting his major organs and arms, but his shins would be unguarded, and if he tried to cover them quickly, he would be too late, exposing himself to a killing blow. Kalli's blow landed.

Vaughn groaned, but scrambled back. He wouldn't fall for the same tactic again. Forgoing any distractions, Kalli leapt to his left, digging her daggers into his shield and wrenching them around. His arm gave a satisfying crack, and he groaned, slashing wildly at her with his sword. Kalli ducked behind the shield, abandoning the daggers and reaching for the longsword Duncan had sent. She had never wielded something so large, but she didn't have a choice. She blocked one, two, three weak blows from Vaughn before burying the blade in his chest. He stumbled back, collapsing to the ground as blood bubbled out of his mouth.

Soris rushed over to Kalli, his breathing labored from the exertion, "He... he's dead. Tell me we did the right thing, Cousin."

"What's important is that Shianni and the others are safe," she reminded him.

"I... I'll check the back room for the others. Shianni needs you."

Kalli made her way across the bloody room to where Shianni still cowered, sobbing, "D-don't leave me alone... please... please, take me home."

"Come on. We're going home," Kalli crooned.

"So much blood," Shianni was hysterical, "I... I can't stand to look at it. It's... everywhere. You killed them, didn't you? You killed them all."

"Like dogs, Shianni. Like dogs," she pulled her cousin to her chest, rocking slightly.

"Good. Good..."

"Is... she going to be all right?" Valora asked as she entered the room with Soris and Maia. Both of the other women looked no worse for the wear.

"Would you be?" Kalli snapped.

Soris squeezed Valora's hand, "Shianni's strong. She'll recover. But we should go. Soon. As in now."

"Yes," Kalli helped Shianni to her feet, "I've had enough of this place. Maia, Valora, can you help Shianni? I'll lead us out of here."

"I'll take the rear guard," Soris offered, "I can't wait to leave this place."

It didn't take long to leave the castle, as there were no guards left to stop them, and no servants were interested in trying. Shianni was still shaking and crying, but Valora and Maia were both speaking to her in low, comforting tones, assuring her that all would be well, and that no one would hurt her ever again. Kalli finally started to breathe when they reached the gate of the Alienage. Still covered in blood, they met Valendrian, Duncan, Tori, and the other mage on the other side of the gate.

"You have returned," Valendrian said half-relieved, half-panicked, "Has Shianni been hurt? Where is Torney's daughter, Nola?"

Valora answered in a shaking voice, "Nola didn't make it. She resisted, and..."

"...they killed her," Shianni finished.

"Nelaros too. The guards killed him," Soris added.

"I see," Valendrian said somberly, "Would the rest of you ladies please take Shianni home? She needs rest."

"Of course," Valora and Maia led Shianni away.

Valendrian turned his attention to Kalli, "Now tell me: what happened?"

"Vaughn's dead," she answered flatly.

Duncan interrupted, "Then the garrison could already be on their way. You have little time."

"I don't know what we should do," she panicked. Maker, what had she done?

"The guards are here!" one of the elves scurried up.

"Don't panic," Valendrian advised calmly, "Let's see what comes of this."

They didn't have to wait long before the guards arrived at the small group, and the leader cried, "I seek Valendrian, elder and administrator of the Alienage!"

Valendrian bowed slightly, "Here, Captain. I take it you have come in response to today's disruption?"

"Do not play ignorant with me, elder. You will not prevent justice from being done. The arl's son lies dead in a river of bloods that runs through the entire palace! I need names, and I need them now!"

Kalli wondered why they would immediately suspect elves. Surely, Vaughn and the arl had plenty of enemies? Of course, several servants had seen them and could have mentioned that they were elves, but Kalli thought of the cruel reality that elves were always the first looked at for anything going wrong in the world. Before anyone had a chance to respond, she stepped forward, "It was my doing."

The man with the white beard scoffed--funny how people kept doing that to her- underestimating her, "You expect me to believe one woman did all that?"

"We are not all so helpless, Captain," Valendrian answered evenly.

The captain sighed, "You save many by coming forward. I don't envy your fate, but I applaud your courage. This elf will wait in the dungeons until the arl returns. The rest of you, back to your houses!"

Duncan stepped forward, "Captain... a word, if you please."

"What is it, Grey Warden? The situation is well under control, as you can see."

"Be that as it may, I hereby invoke the Grey Warden's Right of Conscription. I remove this woman into my custody."

Kalli stared at him in open shock. Her? A Grey Warden? Leaving the Alienage? Was that even allowed?

She turned to the guard who swore, "Son of a tied down-- Very well, Grey Warden; I cannot challenge your right, but I'll ask one thing: Get this elf out of the city. Today."

"Agreed," said Duncan.

"Now, I need to get my men on the streets before this news hits. Move out!" he ordered, and the guards retreated. Kalli felt herself start breathing again.

Duncan faced Kalli, examining her, "You're with us now. Say your goodbyes, and see me when you're ready. We leave immediately."

"But what's going to happen here?" she insisted.

"For the moment, they are fine. There are far more important matters arising that endanger more than just your people. I needed a Grey Warden and I found one. That conscripting you saved your life is only circumstance," Duncan continued in spite of Kalli's urge to throttle him, "You did what you had to do to accomplish your mission. We need people like you. Now quickly say your goodbyes. Your life here is over."

Kalli wanted to scowl at Duncan like Tori was, or to rage at him, scream at him, tear at him. But she couldn't. He had given her a chance to save her people. He was giving her what she wanted: a chance to leave and make a difference. A life where she wouldn't have to hide who she was. No, he had saved her from more than the guards, and she would be grateful.

Soris hugged her tightly, "Thank you. You really saved my hide back there..."

"What will you do now?" she asked, brushing away one of his tears.

"No more daydreaming," he answered firmly, "I'm settling down. Valora's a good woman, and she has ideas on making life better for everyone here. Your father had the women take Shianni back to your place. Will you see her before you go?"

"Of course."

He hugged her again, "Good luck, cousin. You've been my hero since we were kids. It's just official now."

Soris moved to allow Valendrian to embrace her, "Well, I guess Duncan got his recruit after all."

"There's a whole world out there, you know," she smiled, her heart already aching for home. 

"I know, and you'll do well as a Grey Warden. If you'll excuse me, I must tend to our people. Goodbye, young one, and Maker keep you."

Kalli gave him a last kiss on the cheek before heading toward her home for what was likely the last time. This wasn't how she wanted it to be. She wanted to go on adventures knowing she could always come home, not fleeing like a criminal. Her heart nearly broke when she saw her father standing outside their home. Tall, proud and strong. Suddenly, she started thinking of all of the things that made her like him. She wanted to remember him, the man who had always been her rock.

He sighed when she approached, "If... this is what the Maker has planned for you, then I guess it's for the best. Your mother would've been pleased."

"You're not pleased?" she asked, disappointed. She wanted her father to be proud of her. Being a Grey Warden was an honorable calling, everyone said so. Why would her father not be pleased?

"I-I just wish there was another way. I dreamed of grandchildren, family gatherings, and... I'm sorry. This isn't helping," he pulled her close, "Take care, my girl. Be safe. And wise. And... well, you know. We'll all miss you. Especially me."

"I love you, Father."

"And I love you, Kallian. Now, go. Shianni needs you," he turned away from her, a feeble attempt to hide his tears.

Kalli wanted him to face her, to hold her for a little while longer, but he couldn't. If she didn't say her good-byes quickly, she might lose her nerve. The captain had told Duncan to take her and leave immediately. Duncan had already done so much for her by conscripting her, and saving her from the fate of rotting in the arl's prison. She wouldn't repay him by making this any harder than it had to be. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door to her home for what she hoped was not the last time.

Valora met Kalli just inside the door, "There you are... thank you. For me, for Soris, for everthing."

Kalli offered a half-hearted smile, "Be good to Soris."

"I will. I swear it," Valora said earnestly, "Shianni seems to have regained herself. I'll leave you two alone. Good luck, and thank you again."

Kalli took a moment to steel herself as Valora exited the apartment. She wasn't sure she was ready to see Shianni. The image of her cousin bruised and bloody on the floor was still burned into her mind, and image that tore at her insides, screaming for revenge that could not be sated. No, she was a Warden now. Or she would be. She could focus that rage on the darkspawn, pretending each one was Vaughn, that each fallen soldier was Shianni. Yes, that would work, but, for now, Shianni needed her to be calm.

As soon as Shianni saw Kalli, she threw herself in her cousin's arms, not caring she was staining her new dress with blood, "You took all the responsibility for what happened. You're amazing, you know that?"

"How are you holding up?" Kalli asked gently.

Shianni stepped back, still a little shaky, "I'm... all right. As far as the others know, Vaughn just roughed me up a bit. I just don't want them treating me like some fragile doll."

She hugged Kalli again, "I love you, Cousin. Make us proud out there."

"I love you too, Shianni."

Then it was over. The last goodbye. Kalli made her way back to the gates, not really hearing the farewells of those calling out as she passed. The only thing Kalli could hear was the pounding of her heart. She was leaving the Alienage. She was going to become a Warden, a legend. Duncan nodded as she approached, leading them out without a word, but Tori linked arms with Kalli as she had done at the wedding. Maker, it already seemed like a lifetime ago. Was it really only earlier that day?

She tried to stop the silent tears as they entered the heart of Denerim, but they wouldn't stop. Tori offered a handkerchief, "It's okay to cry. You're among friends."

Kalli stared at her blankly.

"We were all pulled from our homes more or less unwillingly as well."

"Except you," the other mage reminded Tori.

"Well, if you hadn't been conscripted, I would have stayed in the Tower with you. Where you go, I go. And if you want to be technical, Duran was fairly eager to leave too."

"Duran?" Kalli asked.

"He's a dwarf. He was born casteless, so basically treated like elves in an alienage or worse, but Duncan saved him from death, and now he's been forced to a life on the surface. Keeps thinking he's going to fall into the sky no matter how many times I try to explain gravity," Tori said thoughtfully, "Oh, and Aedan. He's a human. Noble. Aedan Cousland of Highever. See, Solona save his dad's life, so, in exchange, Aedan was sent to join the Wardens to stop the Blight."

"I know it isn't the same," Solona said softly, "But we all know what it is like to lose your family and your home. We're sort of making our own family, and making the best of it. We may not have lost people in the same way, but loss is loss."

Kalli had no answer for this, so instead chose to storm off and walk next to Duncan. She didn't want to think about making a new family or creating a new life. All she wanted at that moment was to go home, crawl in bed, close her eyes, and wake up to realize the day had never happened. She would postpone the wedding somehow. She would find a way to keep Vaughn out of the Alienage. She wasn't sure how, but she would make it right, and she would come home.


	13. Through the Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalli comes to terms with her place among the other recruits. Theron and Tamlen come across elven ruins. Will they reveal secrets about the ancient elves or discover something even more sinister?

It took them nearly a week to reach the edge of the Brecilian Forest, and Kalli was doing an excellent job of keeping to herself. The others, their own pain still fresh in their minds, were more than willing to give her all the space she needed, so long as she continued to eat and carry her own weight. They were all surprised that Duncan seemed determined to let them all work it out for themselves, and kept away from the main group when they traveled, interacting only at meals, or when he sat guard duty with one of them at night.

In fact, the only one of them Duncan spent any significant amount of time with was Solona, who seemed to drift between Duncan and the others. From snatches of the conversation, it seemed that Solona was determined to become an expert on darkspawn, Blights, and Grey Wardens before they reached Ostagar. Kalli had once sarcastically suggested that Solona was trying to be teacher's pet, but Tori laughed it off, "No, that's Solona for you. Give her a problem, and she'll study it to death."

Kalli hated to admit it, but over the course of the week that it took them to reach the Brecilian forest, she had started to enjoy the company of Tori and the other recruits. Tori had been right about Duran having beautiful stories and songs. There had been one night around the fire when he serenaded them with a song of loss so mournful it brought them all to the brink of tears, and even the birds had stopped singing to listen. Of course, he had followed it by an amusing anecdote about a dwarf who had travelled to the surface, and fallen into the sky, so the tears of loss turned to tears of laughter. He also seemed particularly fascinated by Kalli, as though he wasn't quite sure she could be real.

Tori was, in Kalli’s opinion, the most tolerable of the group. As she listened to Tori's stories about the tower, and her views on magic and Templars, Kalli thought it was a wonder that anyone had ever been able to cage such a creature. She was wild and passionate with a devastating smile. The biggest drawback to Tori was her remarkable cheerfulness so early in the morning. She was always the first person awake--full of life and energy, ready to start the day. It also seemed that Tori was fond of practical jokes, a hobby she shared with Aedan.

If Tori was Kalli's favorite companion, Aedan was her least favorite. If she was honest, it was not because of anything he had done, but because he was a human. Not only that he was a noble. It was unfair to Aedan, but every time Kalli looked at Aedan, she saw Vaughn. Not that they were anything alike.

Aedan was also full of laughter and jokes. He treated Kalli no differently than he treated Tori, though he did seem to have a bit of a soft spot for Solona. He was kind to all of the other travelers they met--humans and elves alike. In spite of what seemed to be a desire to be liked by everyone, Aedan didn't push. It was one of the only things that Kalli could appreciate about him at the moment.

Lastly, there was the other mage, Solona. She was curious, that much was obvious from the questions she frequently posed to Duncan, Duran, and Aedan, but she could also be rather reserved. Much more what Kalli had anticipated from a Circle mage. When they had any time to themselves, Solona could be found with her nose in a book, either reading or scribbling notes.

Whenever they encountered merchants, she would always ask to see their books usually purchasing something if they had something to spare.

She was also prone to night terrors, something that was apparently a regular occurrence because the others did not seem as disturbed by them as Kalli was. When Kalli asked Tori if that was normal for a mage, Tori had simply answered that no, it was not, but Solona had been through many things that would make any sane person wake up screaming at night. If Tori had meant that to be comforting, it wasn't. Luckily, Solona had not incinerated them all in her sleep or become an abomination, so that was something.

In spite of her night terrors, Solona was kind and helpful to a fault. She healed the sick they met on the road, gave coins to the poor and needy, helped carry packs for the overburdened, and even stopped to heal a wounded stag they had met on the outskirts of the forest. Solona was not a born beauty like Tori, but she was still rather pretty. No one was immune to the charms of a genuine smile from Solona, not even Kalli, who always found herself smiling faintly in response. She was also surprisingly witty and sarcastic, a rather pleasant surprise.

When they finally reached the Brecilian Forest, Duncan stopped them, "We all need to be very careful and stay close from here until we are out of the forest."

"Why?" Duran asked, reaching for his war hammer.

"Dalish elves live within these woods. I am hoping to meet with them, and see if they have any candidates for the Wardens, but they are a very suspicious people. They will not take kindly to us trampling around in the woods," he commanded, "Now, come."

*************

 

"Theron!" Tamlen skidded to a stop in front of his friend, interrupting Theron’s meditations, "Are you almost ready? I swear I'm surprised the clan hasn't forgotten you you're so slow."

Theron opened his eyes, and raised a dark, slanted eyebrow at his friend, "I'm not slow. I'm patient. Besides, they wouldn't leave their best hunter."

Tamlen scoffed, "Sure, go get a big head about it now. Maybe it'll help you catch some game."

He rolled his eyes, then got to his feet, brushing the earth from his clothes. It was a day much like any other in the camp. They had been in this location for nearly two months. It had been favored by the Creators with plenty of food, fresh water, and enough forest to be sheltered from the humans, yet close enough to a human city to trade when they needed to. Much like he always did when they settled into a bountiful area in the Brecilian Forest, Theron wondered what it might be like to just stay there. No more wandering from place to place. No more picking up the aravels, and carting everyone off to find a new place to live.

He would never admit it, but he had seen a grand manor in one of the human cities as a child, and had since always dreamed of living in such a place. Not that elves would ever be allowed to have manors. From what Theron knew of the outside world, lords and nobles, or incredibly rich people, lived in those manor houses, and those titles were reserved for humans only. The closest elves got was securing a position as a servant in one of those houses, and being allowed quarters there. Still, that did not stop his dream of living in one of those homes.

Theron glanced over at Tamlen--his closest friend and hunting partner since they had both come of age and received their vallaslin--and wondered if the other elf ever harbored similar thoughts. He had no more posed the question in his head than he dismissed it. Of course not. Tamlen hated shemlen and everything to do with them. If he had his way, Tamlen would lead all the Dalish to run the shemlen out of their homes as the humans had once done to the elves.

It was actually a popular thought among many of the Dalish. Theron was sure they would have done it ages ago if they had the ability, but it wasn't just numbers they were lacking. Humans had better armor, better weapons, and they had scores more mages. Not to mention they had Templars and the Dalish had none. A clan would have two to three mages at the most—a Keeper, a First, and, possibly, a Second--but they did not have any Templars. They had never fought any Templars. The only thing they knew about Templars is that magic was useless against them and they were used to keep mages in their little tower prisons. No, attacking the humans was useless, and so, they waited, wandering from place to place, always watching over their shoulders, and doing their best to preserve what was left of their history and culture.

Theron followed Tamlen through the woods, keeping his mind empty as he listened for the sound of game. They checked the clan's traps, keeping a close eye out for any human hunters, wandering deeper and deeper into the forest. When they had been hunting for nearly two hours, Theron stopped. Something was moving in the forest not too far from them. Several large somethings. He motioned to Tamlen. 

Listening for a moment more, he realized it was the sound of running--people running. Their hunters? No. Dalish hunters would not be so loud and clumsy, even if they were running for their lives. Besides, if Dalish hunters were running for their lives, they would be signaling for help too.

Before Theron could respond, Tamlen took off, bow in hand. It took only a split second for Theron to realize that Tamlen meant to cut off whoever was running and find out what was going on. With an internal groan, Theron took after him, praying to the Creators that Tamlen wouldn't do anything stupid.

It was only a few moments before the source of the noise came into view. Theron spotted three human men in peasant clothes racing in the valley alongside the ridge Theron and Tamlen had been occupying. Theron watched as Tamlen stationed himself around a bend in the path to catch the three men by surprise. So they hadn't met Tamlen yet. Then why were they running like they were being hunted? Theron couldn't hear any other large game in the area.

There was no time to think about it as the first man nearly ran into Tamlen's arrow, falling to the ground as he tried to stop himself. The second man managed to stay on his feet, but the third man tripped over the first. Theron crept slowly down the bank and through the brush as the men were occupied with Tamlen.

"It's a Dalish!" one of the men cried.

"And you three are somewhere you shouldn't be!" Tamlen said evenly.

The man who was still standing mustered up some courage, "Let us pass, elf. You have no right to stop us!"

"No? We will see about that, won't we?"

Theron stepped into view, also aiming his bow at the men. Tamlen smirked, "You're just in time. I found these...humans lurking in bushes. Bandits, no doubt."

The sight of two armed elves took the bravado out of the man, "We aren't bandits, I swear! Please don't hurt us!"

"You shemlen are pathetic. It's hard to believe you ever drove us from our homeland," Tamlen spat with contempt.

"W-we never done nothing to you Dalish!" one of the other men sputtered, "We didn't even know this forest was yours!"

"The forest isn't ours, fool. You've stumbled too close to our camp. You shems are like vermin--we can't trust you not to make mischief. What do you say, lethallan? What should we do with them?"

Theron stared at the frightened men, then steeled himself with the memories of what had happened when the humans had found their camps before. Once, when Theron was six or seven years old, a pair of Dalish girls had gone off to find a wounded halla, and bring it back to the clan. Neither of them had returned. They later learned that the girls had been caught by slavers in the area. The Keeper moved them that same night.

Another time, a group of young human boys though it would be a nice prank to try to sneak in and steal from the Dalish. They were stopped without incident, but they ran back to their parents, telling wild stories about how the Dalish had stolen them in the middle of the night, and tried to force them into their ways. Keeper Marethari had tried to reason with the humans, whom they had traded with peacefully on occasion, but fear had overruled their sense, and the camp was forced to move.

Nearly every time they were in one area long enough to be found by or trade with the humans without immediately moving, there had been some sort of trouble. Theron was tired of it. He was tired of running, and the false accusations. He was tired of trying to defend himself and his people to the same type of people who would lock mages away in cages just for having magic.

"Let's find out what they're doing here," Theron suggested. However much they disliked the shemlen, they did not need to make things harder for the clan by outright killing three men.

"Does it matter?" Tamlen scoffed, inching closer to the men, "Hunting or banditry, we'll need to move camp if we let them live."

One of the humans, the one in a dirty blue tunic, stepped forward, "L-look... we didn't come here to be trouble. We just found a cave..."

"Yes, a cave!" another added, "With ruins live I've never seen! We thought there might be, uh..."

His words trailed off as Tamlen directed the bow at him, "Treasure. So you're more akin to thieves than actual bandits."

"I've never heard of ruins in these parts," Theron muttered to his companion.

"Neither have I."

One of the men stumbled forward, holding something out, "I... I have proof! Here... we found this just inside the entrance."

Tamlen lowered his bow, and took the stone tablet, "This stone has carvings.... Is this elvish? Written elvish?"

"There's more in the ruins!" the man insisted, "We didn't get very far in though..."

"Why not?" Theron demanded as Tamlen studied the stone reverently.

"There was a demon! It was huge, with black eyes! Thank the Maker we were able to out-run it!"

Tamlen carefully pocketed the stone, "Where is this cave?"

"Just off to the west, I think. There's a cave in the rock face, and a huge hole just inside."

"Well?" Tamlen raised his bow again, "Do you trust them? Shall we let them go?"

Theron lowered his own bow, and returned the arrow to his quiver, "You've frightened them enough. They won't bother us."

He looked disappointed, but Tamlen agreed, "Run along then, shems... and don't come back until we Dalish have moved on."

The three men paused only a moment to thank the elves profusely before dashing off toward the village. Theron could heard them crashing through the trees long after they were out of sight. When they were too far away to hear, he turned to see Tamlen studying the stone with the carvings again.

"Tamlen?"

He looked up, "Oh, yes. Well, shall we see if there's any truth to their story? These carvings make me curious."

"We should inform the Keeper first."

"She might be interested in these carvings, but let's see if there's anything more before we get excited," Tamlen insisted, "Besides, we're already here. Now, they said it was to the west..."

It came as no surprise that Tamlen chose to take the lead as they attempted to navigate to the cave. A nagging voice in the back of Theron's head told him they should turn back, that they should tell the Keeper first, but there was no way Tamlen would ever listen. Tamlen was fearless, and too curious for his own good. It was why everyone had been relieved that Theron had been so level-headed and patient, especially when it came to hunting.

They traveled silently for several minutes until they came to the cave the men had indicated. Tall, crumbling pillars leaned against the stone, moss and vines clinging to them. As they continued, they saw the large, foggy opening to the cave. Tamlen crept closer, "This must be the cave. I don't recall seeing this before, do you?"

"No, and that worries me," Theron admitted, "If we're not going to tell the rest of the clan, we should at least be wary."

Tamlen gave a good-natured sigh, "Always the careful one. Fine, but I'm not running back to camp until I know there's something worth making a fuss over. Come on, let's at least see what's there. How dangerous could it be?"

The words gave Theron the compulsion to smash Tamlen over the head with something and drag him back to camp, but he followed his friend into the cave. 

In hindsight, knocking Tamlen over the head and dragging him back to camp would have been the best option, but nothing would have prepared them for what they had seen. Walking corpses. Giant spiders. A strange creature that somewhat resembled a bear, but with long, thick spikes on its body. There were dozens of traps, statues of the Creators alongside human architecture, and then the mirror.

Theron had felt there was something wrong with the mirror the moment he saw it, but Tamlen wouldn't be deterred. Instead, he reached out and touched it. Theron grabbed him, trying to pull him back, trying to save him, but it was too late. The world had gone black. There was a vague memory of a shem man standing over him, and a woman's gentle voice singing something in a soothing, lilting voice. There was a glimpse of an elven woman with honey colored hair, but no vallaslin, but, her mouth was closed. She wasn't the one singing. He tried to ask her where he was, but his vision blurred, and the blackness consumed him once more.


	14. Darkness Within

When he finally regained consciousness, Theron was startled to see that he was in his aravel. The one he had shared with Ashalle since she had taken him in as a child. He touched the wooden wolf that his father had carved so many years ago, a tribute to Fen'Harel, the god of tricksters who had locked away the other Creators for eternity. As a child, Theron had always thought it odd that his father would have such a thing, but, as he grew older, Theron started to feel a kinship with the god. Wolves were the strongest of the creatures; the strongest and the most loyal. They were fierce fighters, and cunning predators, and they were Fen'Harel's creatures as the halla belonged to Ghilan'nain and the ravens to Dirthamen.

He didn't linger in the aravel long, but set out to find out what had happened, and how they had gotten home. Did Tamlen feel as badly as he did? Creators, his head was pounding.

"You're awake! You've the gods' own luck, lethallin," Fenarel clapped him at the arm,

"Everyone is worried sick about you. How do you feel?"

"How did I get back here?" Theron managed.

"A shem and some city elf brought you back two days ago. You don't remember them?"

"I've been out for two days?!" Theron cried. 

Fenarel nodded, "The shem was a Grey Warden. He appeared out of nowhere with you slung over his shoulder. You were delirious with fever. He said that he and his recruits found you outside a cave in the forest, unconscious and alone. He left you here, and then ran off again. He left the elf that was with him, and said he'd be back. The keeper's been using the old magic to heal you."

"Is anyone looking for Tamlen?" he demanded.

"Of course! Most of the hunters are off looking for him right now. But the keeper wanted to talk to you as soon as you awoke. I'll get her."

There was no time for Fenarel's words to sink in before Keeper Marethari appeared to look Theron over. She was a serious woman with white hair kept back from her face in twin braids. As usual, she wore short, green robes instead of armor, something that showed off her authority as the keeper, and position in the clan as a mage.

"I see you are awake, da'len," she said fondly, "It is fortunate Duncan and his companions found you when they did..."

Theron held still as she looked him over, "I know not what power held you, but it nearly bled the life from you. It was difficult even for my magic to keep you alive."

"What happened to us? Where is Tamlen?"

"I know only that the Grey Warden and his party found you in front of a strange cave, sick and alone. And Duncan thought there may have been darkspawn creatures inside this cave. Is this true?"

Theron racked his brains, trying to unscramble the memory of the cave, "There were walking corpses and other strange monsters, but I don't know if any of them were darkspawn.

Nothing like the ones we heard about in the stories anyway."

"Walking corpses?" she asked thoughtfully, "Dark magic, but not darkspawn. I know not what the other creatures might have been. What else did you find? What is the last thing you remember?"

He searched his thoughts and memories until they landed on-, "A mirror. Tamlen touched it."

Marethari seemed unconvinced, "A mirror? And it caused all this? I have never heard of such a thing in all the lore we have collected. I was hoping for answers when you woke, but there are only more questions. And Tamlen remains missing. He is more important than any lore in these ruins. If he is as sick as you were, his condition is grave."

"What can I do, Keeper?"

She studied him closely, "Duncan and his party returned to the cave to search for darkspawn, but we cannot rely on them to look for Tamlen as well. We must go ourselves, and quickly. Do you feel well enough to show us the way, da'len? Without your help, I fear we may not find it in time."

"I'm up to it, Keeper," he said quickly, "I feel fine."

It was a blatant lie, but Marethari did not confront him about it, "I am ordering the clan to pack the camp so we can go north. Take Merrill with you to the cave. Find Tamlen if you can, but do it swiftly."

"Take Merrill to the cave and find Tamlen. I understand," Theron agreed, not wanting to waste time.

"Oh, and Duncan brought a Warden recruit into the camp when he brought you back. Her name is Kallian. I want you to take her with you as well."

"You want me to take a shem with me to find Tamlen?"

"No, I want you to take a Warden with you to find Tamlen," Marethari reprimanded, "Since Duncan is searching for darkspawn, he has offered us her assistance. While she may not be a full Warden, he assures me she is an accomplished warrior, and I will remind you that most of our hunters are gone, and we need everyone we can spare to pack the camp while they look for Tamlen. Do not argue, Theron. Tamlen's life hangs in the balance. Go find Merrill and Kallian, find Tamlen, and return to us safely."

Without asking the dozens of questions buzzing in his mind, Theron turned to gather his bow, and then to find Merrill and the recruit the Warden had left for them. It took longer than anticipated, mostly because almost everyone in the clan wanted to stop and praise the Creators that Theron was still alive. Ilen was happy to offer more arrows and other supplies, but Hahren Paivel was less than pleased with Theron. As usual, he scolded Theron for being so foolish.

There was no point defending himself. Hahren Paivel was right. It was his fault that Tamlen was missing, and possibly dead. All he could do was try to find Tamlen so the keeper could save him too.

Ashalle delayed Theron the longest, fretting over him as she had always done. She had never had children of her own, as she had been bonded to another female elf in the clan, and Theron had never known his true parents. All he had ever known was that his father had been the keeper before Marethari, and his mother had been one of the finest hunters to ever live--said to be blessed by Andruil herself, for whom she was named. 

His parents had met in secret due to the elders in Andruil's clan not approving of the match. Bandits had found them one day in the forest, and killed his father, but his mother had escaped to her dead lover's clan. Ashalle had told Theron that, one night, when he was only a few weeks old, Andruil had walked off in the night, and never returned. She had lost the will to live.

When he was young, he felt sorry for his mother, and dreamed that maybe she would come back one day, and tell him that she had been kept away by slavers or some other inescapable force. Surely, a skilled hunter could survive in the woods alone. But as the years passed, the hope faded, and Theron grew to resent his mother for abandoning him. She could have raised him, taught him to be like his father. They could have mourned him together. Instead, she had given up on him.

When he had accepted that truth, Theron simply denied that he had parents other than Ashalle. Ashalle had taught him to cook, to hunt, to sew, to heal, to sing. She had been the one to apply his vallaslin, and to speak to the families of potential matches on his behalf. He would allow her to fuss over him for just a few moments to feel better before he ran off to find Tamlen.

"Theron," she grabbed his arm, "Have you met the recruit that the Grey Warden brought?"

"I just woke up," he reminded her, "Why?"

Ashalle shrugged, but she was beaming, "Oh, well. I thought you might like to meet her." 

"Ilen and some of the others said the same thing. Why does everyone want me to meet this shem so badly?"

Her grin widened, "Oh, no reason. Come, I'll introduce you."

The realization of why everyone was so amused was not immediately obvious when Theron spotted the recruit. He was surprised to see that she was not, in fact, a shem, but an elf. In fact, he vaguely remembered a fuzzy glimpse of her after Tamlen touched the mirror. She was beautiful, that was obvious, with her honey-colored hair, and perfectly slim frame, and a delicately featured face, but none of that was reason enough to have anyone acting like this. They had seen beautiful elves before. Why was this one so special?

The question answered itself when the strange elf shot a dozen arrows into the trees, each bringing down a squirrel or bird a hundred yards away or more. Then, she spun around and whipped two daggers across a cleared off area to embed themselves into target that had been set up to swing back and forth just over a hundred feet away. That was why they wanted Theron to meet her, he thought with a smirk. They thought she could be better than he was.

"Impressive," Theron called from his spot nearby, causing heads to turn, "But you don't really want to be throwing away weapons in a fight."

She shrugged, "Depends on the fight and how many weapons you have. If someone's got a longsword, you can bet your pretty arse that I won't want to deal with that up close."

Her boldness startled him, "I guess we should stop giving the squirrels longswords then."

"Well, then it would be too easy," she countered, then bowed, "Kallian, soon to be of the Grey Wardens. Good to see you awake."

"I thank you for your part in that."

"Well, I mostly made sure your weapons made it back, and that Duncan didn't get mauled by your hunters on our way here, but you're welcome."

"Feel up to some more rescuing?"

She grinned, "You thinking of running off again?"

"Yes. My friend Tamlen went into those ruins with me and no one has seen him since. We're going to go find him."

The smile faded, but her determination remained, "I'm in."

Merrill was not far off, spending her time practicing magic by herself. She had always been a bit sheltered and secluded as the keeper's first, and that had always seemed to please her just fine. She was, however, happy to chatter away with Kallian, asking dozens of questions about life in the alienage, magic outside of the Dalish, all about Kallian's past—a subject Theron noticed she avoided-- and what she thought of the Dalish. Theron was mildly irritated by the incessant chatter, but there was no way to get Merrill to take a hint to stop talking. Even Kallian's short answers did not deter her.

The only thing that did deter Merrill's prattling on was encountering strange, squat creatures with skin the color of parchment, deep set eyes, sunken cheeks, and it appeared that the end of their noses had been cut off to leave two holes in the center of their faces. Their sharp teeth dripped reddish-black blood, and their bottom jaws seemed to stick out farther than the top. They wore rusted, mismatched armor, but they were vicious and horrifying.

When they noticed the elves, the closest creature charged, while two others dropped back, bows in hand. Kallian dispatched the charging creature with trained ease while Theron focused his arrows on the archers. Merrill was little to no use, too stunned to move, but Kallian was an experienced enough fighter that they were able to take down the creatures with ease.

"What were those things?" Merrill asked timidly, "Were those darkspawn?"

"I don't know," Theron admitted.

"Don't look at me," Kallian called as she wiped off her daggers, "I've only killed animals. And people."

Merrill shuddered, "I've never seen anything like them! You can smell the evil on them."

"We should be worrying about where they came from," Theron looked around, searching for any clue to indicate what they were or if there were more, "I don't remember them being here before. I wonder if it has anything to do with the mirror."

"What would darkspawn have to do with our people?"

"I guess we'll find out soon enough. Let's hope there aren't more."

Theron turned back to the path, but Merrill grabbed his arm, "Are you all right? Were you hurt during the fight?"

"I'm fine."

"It's just that you're...quite pale. You look a bit feverish, in fact."

Kallian searched his face for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I wasn't really paying attention to your complexion before, so I'm not really any help."

"I'm fine, Merrill," he insisted, though he did feel weak. Maybe the sickness had taken more out of him than he thought.

Merrill, however, was not reassured, "Well, I'll keep an eye on you. You've only just recovered from your illness."

"Fine, but let's move on," he insisted.

They trudged on in silence for several more minutes, Kallian and Theron listening for the strange creatures or any other predators while Merrill continuously stole glances at Theron. He could feel her eyes examining him as though she expected him to drop dead any moment. He was just about to tell her to stop or head back to camp when Kallian motioned for them to stop.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered.

Theron and Merrill listened for a minute. Merrill shook her head, "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly," realization dawned on Theron, "The forest is too... still. Something's here. Something....unnatural."

"We need to be careful," Kallian insisted.

Merrill shuddered, "The sooner we find this cave, and Tamlen, the sooner we can leave. Is it much farther?"

Theron shook his head, creeping forward with renewed caution. Merrill was practically silent, as all Dalish were, but Kallian's steal surprised him. She was certainly holding her own so far. It was hard for Theron to believe that a city elf would be so capable. From what he knew, they were locked in slums, and beaten down so much that none of them would dare think of learning to fight. He was glad to hear that it was not true of all city elves.

They hurried along as quickly and quietly as they could, keeping an eye out for both Tamlen and more creatures. They found only the latter, but dispatched them with ease. Especially when Merril found her nerve to fight.

It wasn't long before Theron spotted the entrance to the ruins that he and Tamlen had used, "This way."

The women followed him into the dark, damp cave, still alert for any sign of walking corpses or any other strange creatures. It seemed, however, that Tamlen, Theron, and the Wardens had dealt with most of the threats already. There were several new corpses on the floor of the cave, but Theron paid them no mind. They were dead. How could they bother him?

As they approached the central chambers where the mirror had been found, they encountered several of the strange creatures that Theron was now suspecting to be darkspawn. They were surprisingly clever creatures, though they did not look it, and one of them even had magic. Kalli had dealt with the magic user within seconds, but it still unnerved them that the creatures could use magic at all. Again, they went through each room, but still found no trace of Tamlen.

Finally, they opened the door to the room with the mirror, only to see a man and a young woman standing in front of it. Theron recognized him as the man who had appeared in his vision. The woman next to him was much shorter, and wearing a robe instead of armor, a dark braid hanging down her back, "I can't read what it says, but I've made a copy. I'll do some research. Maybe I can find out what the symbols mean."

"I do not like the idea of studying this cursed object, but if it carries the Blight, we need to know everything we can," the man turned to see Theron approaching, "You're the elf we found wandering the forest, aren't you? I'm surprised you have recovered."

"Duncan, this is Theron," Kallian offered.

Duncan offered a slight bow, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. The last time we spoke, you were barely conscious."

"Andaran atish'an, Duncan of the Grey Wardens," Merrill said quickly, "I am Merrill, the keeper's apprentice."

"Your keeper did not send you after me, did she? I told her I would be in no danger."

"We're looking for our brother, Tamlen," Theron answered.

"So, you and Tamlen both entered this cave?" the young woman with the dark hair looked up from her scribbling with interest, "And you both saw this mirror?"

Theron nodded, "Tamlen touched the mirror, and blacked out. I don't remember anything after that."

"My apologies. This is Solona Amell of the Circle of Magi, now a Grey Warden recruit," Duncan announced.

"Did you find any sign of Tamlen?" Merrill interrupted.

Duncan shook his head sadly, "No, nor do I think I will. The Grey Wardens have seen artifacts like this mirror before; it is Tevinter in origin, and used for communication. Over time, some of them simply...break."

"They become filled with the same taint as the darkspawn," Solona explained, "Tamlen's touch must have released it."

"It's what made you sick--and Tamlen, too, we think," Kallian added.

"Did I have the darkspawn sickness?" Theron demanded, feeling slightly panicked. Would he turn into a darkspawn monster like the ones he had seen on the way in? Would he, too, become a mindless monster?

"You have it still," Duncan admitted, "And it will infect others so long as this mirror exists. Your recovery is temporary. I can sense the sickness in you, and it is spreading. Look inside yourself, and you will see."

Theron closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, and his heartbeat. It took him several moments to calm down from the adrenaline and to set aside the shock of recent events, but when he did, he felt something foreign...dark inside him. He could feel it draining on him, even as his body rushed to fight it.

He stifled his panic, "Perhaps there is... something to what you're saying."

"Confirm it with your Keeper later, if you like. For now, we must deal with the mirror... It is a danger."

Duncan raised a sword, ready to strike the mirror, but the human mage grabbed his arm, "I thought you said we were just going to study it! This is a priceless artifact!"

"It is too dangerous. You have your notes. That will have to do."

"But we might be able to fix it," she insisted, "Think of what we could learn!"

"Mage Amell," he warned, "We are Wardens. Our duty is to protect Thedas from the Blight. That means destroying this mirror."

Solona dropped her hand, allowing Duncan to thrust his sword into the mirror. Just before the sword hit, Theron felt the sickness scream out at him in protest, but he did nothing. The shem was right. It needed to be destroyed. It may have killed Tamlen. They couldn't risk the rest of the clan.

Instead of simply shattering, the mirror's glass exploded with a bright surge of light. Screeches filled the air around them, almost as if the mirror was crying out in pain. Theron covered his eyes and ears to block out the noise and the light, but his whole body seemed to be screaming in protest along with the mirror. It took all Theron's strength to stay upright.

When the noise died down, and the light faded, Duncan stepped down from the pedestal, and announced, "It is done. Now let's leave this cursed place. I must speak with the keeper immediately regarding your cure."

Theron nodded, barely aware that he was following the warden and the others back to the camp. The pain still throbbed in Theron, but the worry for Tamlen was distracting. Was Tamlen sick too? Was he already dead? Was he one of the darkspawn he and Kallian, or Duncan and the mage girl killed? The idea that he could have unknowingly killed his closest friend sickened Theron even more.

Duncan left the rest of the group when they arrived back at the camp to speak with the keeper. Merrill and Solona were in deep conversation about the mirror from what Theron gathered, but he wasn't paying much attention. Pavel approached to ask about Tamlen, but Theron couldn't answer. Kallian answered for him, and the elder led her off to help him preparations for the service to mourn Tamlen.

If he had been aware of his surroundings, Theron would have noticed that the others were packing up the camp. Most of the aravels had already been secured, and the chests and benches that were normally strewn about had been packed into the aravels for the journey.

Theron sat on a worn stump close to Pavel and Kallian as they made preparations, but he didn't hear a word of it. He was stuck in a trance until the keeper and Grey Warden appeared in front of him asking for a word.

"Your keeper and I have spoken," Duncan started, "And we've some to an arrangement that concerns you. My order is in need of help. You are in need of a cure. When I leave, I hope you will join me. You would make an excellent Grey Warden."

The idea snapped Theron out of his daze, "I can't just leave my clan!"

Marethari sighed sadly, "And we would not send you away, but there is more at stake."

"The darkspawn taint courses through your veins," Duncan added, "That you recovered at all is remarkable. But, eventually, the taint will sicken and kill you, or worse. The Grey Wardens can prevent that, but it means joining us."

"But will I be able to return to my clan?"

"We do not know," Marthari admitted, "But we could not watch you suffer. The Grey Warden offers you a way to survive."

"This is not simply charity on my part," Duncan assured, "I would not offer this if I did not think you had the makings of a Grey Warden."

"But what about my clan?"

Duncan sighed, "Let me be clear; you will likely never return here. We go to fight the darkspawn, a battle that will take us far from your clan. But we need you, and others like you."

"Why should we trust this human, Keeper?" Theron demanded. This was too much to ask. He would do a lot of things for his clan, but leaving them? Forever? No, he was a Dalish, and he belonged with the Dalish, sick or not.

Marethari suddenly looked very old, "A great army of darkspawn gathers in the south. A new Blight threatens the land. We cannot outrun this storm. Long ago, the Dalish agreed to aid the Grey Wardens against a Blight, should that day arrive. We must honor that agreement. It breaks my heart to send you away. As it would to watch you die slowly from this sickness. This is your duty, and your salvation."

Theron steeled himself for his next words, "Then I accept this privilege, Duncan, if you'll have me."

Duncan crossed both fists across his chest and bowed, "I welcome you to the order. It is rare to have a Dalish amongst us, but they have always served with distinction."

"I know you'll do your clan proud, da'len. Take this ring. It is your heritage, and will protect you against the darkness to come."

Theron slipped the cold metal onto his finger as Duncan said, "A valuable gift. So... are you ready to go?"

"Can I say good-bye to my clan first?" he asked, almost pleadingly.

"Of course. Say your farewells, then let us be off. We have much ground to cover. I must still visit Redcliffe before we meet the king at Ostagar."

"Come then, da'len," Marethari said affectionately, "Before the Creators guide you from us, let your clan embrace you one last time."

The whole clan was gathered within minutes, and ready to give Theron a proper send off. He stopped at each member of the clan to receive their love, and embraces. Several of the elders like Ashalle, and Pavel stopped to give Theron small tokens, or give their blessings, each of which he treasured greatly. The Dalish did not hide their tears, and neither did Theron as he followed Duncan and Kallian out of the camp and out of view of his family, not knowing if he would ever see them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the delays. We've rounded up all of our Wardens and are now headed to Ostagar. Thanks for all of your support! Your kudos and comments keep me going.


End file.
